Painting Hope
by Rayne Forever
Summary: Bella's abused, and paints her heart out everyday. The Cullens move to town, and Edward and Bella are paired together to work on a project. Things happen, and Bella's pushed over the edge. What will the Cullens do? R&R please! All human! Teen!
1. Hello, Pain

I sit down in the overly loud cafeteria, staring at the red apple in my left hand. My black nails shine brightly against it, my pale fingers long and graceful. Life is slightly boring at the moment, if I'm thinking about the way my fingers look.

I lean back in my chair and watch the many different people in the lunch room. There's the Goths/punks/emos/scene kids, the preps, the fine arts kids, band geeks, nerds discussing their latest academic achievement, jocks, oddballs, wannabes, and me.

I don't really fit in with anyone. I'm not preppy, I'm not a nerd, and I don't quite fit in with the art kids. And besides, what good are people? They always hurt you eventually.

I take a bite from my apple, sucking the juices slightly. Sweet. The apple crunches in my mouth as I watch the different drama for the day.

The theater group is practicing quite dramatically for the next play or something, and apparently . . . one of the cheerleaders got pregnant? Did I hear that right? Well, I probably did, knowing this day and age.

I finish the apple and stand up to throw it away, when I feel like someone's watching me from behind. I turn slightly and see nothing. I must have imagined it, or maybe –

"Hey, Swan, why don't you watch where you're going?" someone shouts at me as I hit something solid. I look up to see one of the football players whose name I don't really remember.

"Sorry," I mutter, looking back at the ground.

He brushed past me, and I throw away the apple core. Then I walk back to my seat. I pull my book out of my bag and start reading.

When the bell rings, I go to my biology class, reading as I walk. I do this every day, and always manage to not get pulverized as I walk. I don't watch where I go, and most people hate that. They threaten to beat me up, and often, they go through with it.

I sit down at my empty table, and read further as the rest of the class files in. Before the bell rings though, I've fallen asleep.

But all too soon, someone's yelling at me to get up.

"Huh?" I mumble, rubbing my eyes. I blink a few times to see Mr. Banner standing in front of my, arms crossed and tapping his foot impatiently.

"Nice you to see you've joined us, Miss Swan," he says. He goes to the front of the room, where I notice a new guy standing awkwardly.

He has these beautiful green eyes. Seriously, they were amazing . . . so stunning, so deep. I could get lost in them. Or paint them and stare at them for eternity. Yeah, I like the second choice. And his bronze hair is quite literally everywhere. He seems bored and odd, standing there. He is quite tall, probably over six foot. And handsome.

"This, class, is Edward Cullen," he says, gesturing to the guy. "He and his family have just moved here and, well, they're here. Edward, take a seat by Miss Swan, the one I just woke up."

Edward nods and takes his seat next to me.

_Edward Cullen_. I haven't heard the name Edward in ages; it's actually a really old name, if I remember right.

He glances at me randomly throughout the class as I begin to ignore Mr. Banner and doodle on a piece of paper.

I glance over after he had glanced at me again and noticed him writing in a notebook. I couldn't make out what most of it said, though. I wonder what he's writing . . .

He scratches out a part of it and underlines yet another. He makes a note on the side of the page, and then flips to the front of the notebook and begins reading over it.

"And now, class," says Mr. Banner, "project time."

"What?" half the class moans.

"Yes, project," he says, shuffling papers on his desk. He picks up a thick stack and starts passing them out. "You and the person sitting at the table with you shall be working on making a detailed diagram of the human skeleton. Due in two weeks. Do not put it off."

I take a paper from the person in front of me, hand one to Edward and pass them back, looking at the front cover. I flip through it quickly, already thinking of how to do this. It shouldn't be too hard.

"Where do you wanna meet to work on this?" asks Edward.

I jumped slightly as I hadn't been expecting him to say anything.

"Uh, not my house, it's a wreck," I say.

"We can meet at my place, I guess," he shrugs.

"Alright," I agree. "When do you wanna meet up?"

"Tomorrow after school," he says. "I just need to move some boxes so we can work."

I nod, thinking of what to tell Charlie. How to explain this to Charlie.

I give an involuntary shiver.

"You okay?" asks Edward.

"What? Oh. Yeah. I'm fine," I lie.

I look down, long brown hair falling in front of my face. I pull the sleeve of my jacket and shirt up, looking at the black, blue and sickly green bruises lining my wrist. I drop the sleeve and straighten up to find Edward looking at me.

"What?" I ask as the bell rings.

We grab our stuff and walk out of the door.

He shrugs.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says and walks off.

When I get home, it's to find Charlie not home. I grin and go up to my room. I flop onto my bed, wincing as I move wrong. I sit back up and pull my hoodie off, over my head.

I walk over to my easel, looking at what's staring at me. It's a dark stormy night, as I've painted it, with a dark tree with leaves being blown off. It doesn't look half bad. The canvas it's painted on is about 32" by 12".

Out of the corner of my eye, I see my reflection in the mirror. I walk over to it, looking at my body. My shirt's a dark blue shirt is a size too big for me, hanging loosely on my body. My black skinny jeans are right on my body.

I lift a hand to my face, feeling the cut above my eye. I put a bandage on it, but it's still trickling blood, but only slightly. I wipe the blood away, smearing it along my hand. My cheeks are hallow, and I'm as pale as paper. There's a bruise showing from under my bangs on the left side of my face. My brown eyes look sad and empty of the light I remember I once saw in them.

I pull up my shirt, looking at my stomach. I'm so thin . . . There's bruises all over my body, cuts on my abdomen. I look away from the mirror, dropping my shirt.

I go downstairs, knowing Charlie will want dinner when he gets home. I dig through the cabinets and the fridge. I pull out some chicken and onions, peppers and tomatoes and cheese. I'll make him a quesadilla. I get out a pan and turn on one of the burners, preparing to make his dinner.

I'm setting the table right as he walks in the door, placing his food and beer down.

"Ah, good bitch," he says, putting his jacket on the coat hook by the door. He sits down, knocking me aside roughly. I maintain my balance.

"Thank you, sir," I say. "I was hoping you'd enjoy it."

He takes a bite. "It's okay."

As he eats, I sit down, not eating. I only eat if he allows me. He finishes his beer, and I grab another one quickly. He trips me as I walk to over to him. My wrists take the impact as I land on my hands and knees.

_Dammit_.

He delivers a kick to my ribs, knocking me onto my side. I curl in on myself without really thinking about, just trying to protect myself.

He picks up the beer from my hand and this me over the head with it. That's the last thing I remember that's not hazy and red before passing out.


	2. Making Plans

**A/N: I got questions asking what Charlie's problem was. Just wait. It'll be explained later.**

When I wake up the next morning, I'm lying on the kitchen floor with a pool of blood around my head. I sit up too quickly, and grab my head, moaning. I notice a small note on the table and grab it.

_Bitch-_

_At work. Clean up the mess you made. _

The mess I made? What the hell! I didn't do anything! That was his fault.

I sigh, though and force myself to my feet, using my right hand to grip the table. I cry out, pulling my wrist to my chest. I must have hit it too hard when I fell last night.

I go up to my room, surprised my legs don't feel even more injured. I dig around under my bed for a few minutes and then pull out an old, thin rag. I take that and find something to wear for the day.

I go to the bathroom and turn on the hot water. I undress and step into the pounding water from the shower. The water beats on my body, but in a soothing, decent way. I look down and watch the dried blood wash off my body.

When I get out, I dress again, put then stare at my stomach in the mirror. There's a black bruise in the shape of his boot! I turn and see my back with a large cut down it. I don't know what to do about it, and I watch as a small amount of blood oozes out.

I find a large bandage in the cabinet and peel off the back. I place it over the cut as best I could, considering I'm looking into a mirror to place it.

I finish dressing and cover up most of the bruises on my face. I tie up my wrist and pull on my jacket. I'm pulling on my backpack as thunder cracks.

"Can this day get much worse?" I say out loud.

I pull my jacket off and exchange it for a dark blue jacket that the water literally rolls off. I lift the hood up and grab my backpack, walking out the front door. I lock the door and start towards school. Well, at least I didn't hurt my legs . . .

After about ten minutes, I'm soaked and freezing. I pull my jacket around me tighter, wishing it the wind would stop. The rain's pelting my face, and I'm sure the skin is raw and red.

I hear the sound of a car coming up behind me and glance back. There's a silver Volvo coming up behind me. It pulls to a stop at the stop sign, and I catch up. I look into the car and see Edward.

I cock my head to the side, surprised to see him.

He rolls down the window.

"Want a ride?" he calls.

My paranoia takes over. Should I trust him? How can I trust him? I just met him. And I don't trust guys that easily. But my brain shoves that out of the way. My brain reminds me that I more than likely will get sick if I walk the rest of the way to school and that I'll probably end up getting hurt, too.

"Uh, sure," I answer finally and open the door. I put my bag on the floor and take a seat, pulling off my jacket.

"What happened?" Edward asks in a panicked tone.

"What?" I answer, looking down. Part of my shirt had crawled up. A small portion of a bruise was showing. I pull it down, shrugging. I answer in a nonchalant tone, "I was taking a walk in the woods and slipped. Hit a log. It's cool."

He seems convinced and starts driving again as I pull on the seatbelt.

"Are you able to come over after school today? For the project?" he asks.

"Dammit, I forgot to ask my dad," I respond, cursing further in my head.

"You wanna call him?" he asks, pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket.

I stare at the phone in his hand. What would Charlie think? I'd be calling from a guy's phone . . . He'd beat me for that, getting a ride. He says I'm not allowed to have help, that I don't deserve help.

But I do need the grade. I have to have all A's or Charlie will kill me.

I take the phone with a shaking hand.

"He-hey, Dad," I say once he answers.

"What?" he spits.

"I forgot to ask last night over dinner, but I would like to go over to a classmate's house to work on a project," I explain, hoping that doesn't come off too . . . well, in a way he wouldn't like.

"Fine," he hisses at last. "But if they find out-"

"Don't worry, Dad, nothing will happen," I say quickly, hoping Edward thinks it's just an over-protective parent thing.

"And it's sir, bitch," he says angrily before hanging up on me.

I hand the phone back to Edward, giving a false smile and thumbs up.

"All's good," I add.

"Okay, then you can ride home with me," he says.

"Sure," I answer in response.

"Yeah, you can meet my siblings and Carlisle and Esme," he adds.

"Cool," I answer. "Your parents?"

"Adopted parents," he clarifies. "They took us in when we were young."

I open my mouth to ask about his real parents, but then think otherwise and shut my mouth. It'd be rude to ask.

"Are any of your siblings biologically related?" I ask instead after a moment of staring at him.

"Oh, no, none of us are, but we're within a year of each other in age," he says. "Well, Rosalie and Jasper are twins, but they're the only related ones."

"Oh," I say. We were both only children. But, I am still am . . .

"Hey, you should sit with us at lunch," he says.

"Okay," I answer. Maybe it won't be so bad to if I befriend him. And he is hot . . .

"I think Emmett and Alice will like you," he says, continuing to talk about his family. But then he laughs. "I just realized I'm focusing this conversation on myself. What about your parents?"

"My dad's the chief of police," I say. It's so ironic – an upholder of justice and then what he does every day . . . I place a hand on my stomach, wincing slightly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"What about your mom?" he asks, nodding.

"She's . . . dead."

"I'm sorry," he answers.

The atmosphere in the little Volvo turns dark and moody. We sit in stony silence until we get to the school. Once there, he parks and we get out.

"I'll see you later," he mutters, looking at the ground.

"Yeah," I respond automatically.

My mind's alright thinking about what I'll need to patch up once I get home. I'm surprised Charlie never asked why I was calling from a cell phone. Maybe he thought it belonged to someone at school . . . Oh, that's just hopeful. There's no way he thought that. I'm so screwed.

Once lunch rolls around, I've worked myself into such a mess that I can't concentrate anymore. I've chewed off most of my fingernails and –

"Ow!" I cry as I trip and fall. I hit the ground with my wrists braking the fall. "Shit!"

I bring my injured hand to my chest, trying not to cry.

"You okay?" I hear a voice ask from above me.

I look up with tears forming in my eyes to see Edward. He offers his hand, and I take it with my good one. He lifts me up gently and takes my injured wrist. He rolls up my sleeve, and I yank away my hand, hurting it more.

He gives me a very puzzled look.

"You were hurting it," I lie. I feel bad about lying, but there's pretty much no way around it.

"Sorry," he says. "Would you like to have Carlisle look at it?"

"Why?" I ask.

"He's a doctor," he explains.

"Oh," I say. I shrug. "I guess. It's probably better than letting it heal on its own."

"Yeah," he said. "Let's go eat . . ."

I follow him to the lunch room, getting an apple out of my bag again. I hardly eat more than apples anymore. We sit down at a table in the corner, and I look around for the others. They aren't here yet.

"I'm gonna go get some food," Edwards says and walks off.

I take a bite of my apple, pulling out my book. I flip it open and remove the bookmark, taking in the words. As I flip the page, I hear someone clear their throat. I look up, pulling a chunk of the apple out.

Four people are staring down at me like I'm the biggest freak they've ever seen.

One's really, really buff with green eyes and black hair. He looks like some of the football players I've seen. A blonde girl stands next to him, bluish eyes artfully surrounded by makeup. There's another blonde – a guy with an odd look on his face and blue eyes. Must be Jasper and the blond chick Rosalie. A short, petite, pixie-like girl is bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet next to Jasper. Hyper little thing. Her jet black hair is spiked in all directions around her pretty face.

Edward comes back at that moment.

"Oh, hey, this is Bella," he explains, sensing the tension between us. "Bella, this is Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper and Alice."

"I bet we're gonna be friends really fast," says Alice, smiling at me. She sits next to me, and Jasper by her. The others take seats around the table.

"Is that all you're eating?" Emmett asks, biting into his sandwich.

"Yeah," I answer, looking down, putting my book away.

"But won't you still be hungry?" Rosalie asks.

"Probably," I mutter, feeling really uncertain about sitting with them. They ask too many questions . . .

"Here," Jasper says, pushing his tray over to me. "I'm not that hungry."

"Oh, thanks," I say, smiling slightly.

I end up finishing the before the rest of them. And as I'm shoving the last bite of sandwich into my mouth, Edward speaks.

"You act like you never eat," he says, his eyebrows knitted together.

I swallow hard and take a minute drinking some of the milk, trying to put together a believable lie.

"I'm just hungry a lot."

Wow, that's so lame.

They don't look like they believe me.

"Bella's coming over after school," Edwards says anyway, moving on from my really crappy lie. "We're working on a project for Banner."

"That skeleton thing?" Emmett asks.

"Yeah, that," I say.

"You should sleepover," Alice says.

My mouth opens, but I can't force words to come out.

"Alice, we just met, forget it," says Edward for me. That was perfect. So much better than other lies going through my head. And this wasn't a lie. 'Sides, Charlie would murder me.

Lunch was filled with talking and getting to know each other. Apparently, Carlisle's job required them to move here from Chicago! Those poor, poor, people. Stuck here, in boring, rainy Forks after windy, sunny, huge, busy Chicago.

And then, the rest of the day passed quickly. Edward and I talked of the project on the way over to his house. There was a long, dirt, twisted drive up to their house through the woods.

The house itself was beautiful and modern, and so white. I thought I heard something like a stream in the background, but that was probably the rain.

He pulls into the garage, and we get out.

"Carlisle won't be home till six, so he can look at your wrist then," he says as I grab my bag.

"That's when Charlie gets home," I say very, very quietly.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say shaking my head as we walk into a gleaming kitchen.

"Hey, Esme!" Edward calls.

"Yes?" I hear a voice call.

"Bella and I are going to go work up in my room," he says, already walking off towards the stairs. I hurry after him.

"Be good!"

He rolls his eyes and sighs.

"Sorry," he says to me. "Parents."

"Yeah," I say.

We enter his room, and I'm automatically surprised by all the walls lined with CDs, vinyl, and cassettes. It looks like there's albums from so many decades! Instead of a bed, he's got this black leather sofa that looks really comfortable.

He drops his bag on the floor, pulling off his jacket. He finds something and sets it up to play. A song and band I'm unfamiliar with starts playing.

I unzip my jacket and take it off. I sit down on the couch as Edward pulls brings out a laptop.

"Mind if I find a picture to use?"

"Go ahead. While you do that, I'm gonna-"

Then I remembered I never cleaned up the blood on the kitchen floor.

"Fudge."

"What?"

"Nothing," I say, shaking my head. I can't believe how often I've lied to him today.

"Oh."

He sketches a really bad skeleton since I can't at the moment.

"This looks like crap," he says.

"No, you just need practice," I say consollignly.

"Like you can do better," he scoffs.

"I can," I say. "I paint and draw a lot."

"Sorry," he says. "Can I see sometime?"

"Maybe."

We work until five-thirty and then call it quits. We go downstairs where everyone else is hanging out.

"Hey, Bella, wanna play?" Emmett asks. Then he shouts, "Jasper, quit that! You're making me drive off the road!"

"Ha!" Jasper cries victoriously as Emmett falls off a cliff.

"Dammit!" he shouts.

"Emmett! Clean up your language right now!" a woman with caramel hair scolds him. She looks over at me standing awkwardly at the foot of the stairs. Edward had picked up another controller and started the next race with the other boys. "Oh, I'm Esme, dear."

Esme's so pretty. I feel so jealous as I look at her.

"Make yourself at home," she says. "Stay for dinner, too."

"Oh, thanks," I say. "I'll just have to call my father."

"The phone's over there," she says as she walks to the kitchen to start dinner.

I go over and pick it up, wondering if I should really call him while in the same room as the rest.

"I'm just gonna step outside," I say, going through the sliding glass door. I shut it and dial the house number. Charlie picks up on the third ring.

"Hello?" he asks. He sounds like his old self, the self he lies with. The kinder self.

"Hi, Dad," I say.

"Oh, bitch," he answers. "What is it?"

"The Cullens want to know if I could stay for dinner," I say. "May I?"

"Fine," he says. "But, bitch, you forgot to clean up. You will be punished."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," I apologize. "When I get back, I'll make you a pie. Apple or cherry?"

"Apple," he hisses and hangs up.

I hit end on their phone and walk back inside as Emmett literally shoves the other two off the couch as they play. I laugh for the first time in weeks. I put the phone up and walk into the kitchen.

"My dad said I can stay," I say.

"That's good, dear," he says. "What would you like?"

"Oh," I say, surprised. "Um, I don't really care. I'm sure whatever you make will be good."

She's about to answer as the garage door opens. A man with slicked back blonde hair enters.

"You must be Bella," he says. "Esme called. I'm Carlisle."

He reaches out to shake my hand, but I don't return the favor.

"Sorry," I say.

"Oh, hey, Carlisle, look at her wrist!" Edward calls from the living room. "Emmett! Stop shoving!"

"You hurt your wrist?" Carlisle asks, looking at me.

"Oh, it's nothing," I lie, pulling my sleeve up far enough to take the rag off. There's swelling and bruising that I know Charlie didn't cause. Dammit. "I just fell and landed on it-"

I break off, screaming as he puts pressure on it. I pull my wrist back, biting my lower lip, feeling tears come to my eyes.

Alice and Rosalie appear in the room quickly.

"What's wrong?" they ask.

"Nothing," I hiss, still trying not to break down. So much pain . . .

"Come with me, Bella," says Carlisle.

He leads be back up the stairs and into his office. He gestures to the seat across from his, and I take it, still holding my wrist. He sits down and takes my hand as gently as he can.

He turns my wrist around as gently as possible and prods it slightly. I whimper, feeling a tear slide down my face.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "I know this must hurt terribly. Is there a burning or tingling feeling?"

I think about it and nod. I never noticed before.

"Well, you sprained it, that's certain," he says. "It appears as a grade two, and I'm sure it's not broken."

He gets up and digs through the bag he had been carrying.

"Here we go," he says. He pulls out an ace bandage. He wraps my wrist as gently as he can but making sure it's tight enough to be effective. "Add ice, elevate it and do not use it excessively."

We go back downstairs. Alice walks over with a bag of ice and places it on my wrist.

"You'll get better soon," she says.

"Yeah," I nod. But I don't believe it. I know he'll probably end up hurting me again. When doesn't that happen?

That night, Charlie's drunk, and two of his friends are drunk as well. This is never good. Nothing good comes of this.

They take turns delivering blows to my body. One brings out a knife and writes "Whore" on the inside of my left wrist. At least no one will see it. Or at least they shouldn't.

And when they're done, I can't move. I don't want to move. They leave, and I don't know what they plan on doing, but I plan on sleeping. But not here. I need to get into bed. My decent bed. The mattress is better than the floor. The last thing I need is a sore back from the floor.

I drag myself up the steps and into my room. I pull off everything except my undershirt and then pull on a pair of sweats. I slip into bed, crying softly to myself. I can't believe I was laughing earlier today.

**Review?**

**-xXRaynXx**


	3. Please

I couldn't get out of bed the next morning. I couldn't will my body to. The phone rings, though, and I force myself to reach for the phone.

"Hello?" I mutter weakly. I'm in so much pain right now.

"Hey, Bella, it's Edward," says the person on the other end. "Do you want a ride to school again?"

"Oh, I won't be in today," I say. "I don't feel very good. I'm just going to sleep for most of the day."

"Oh, okay," he says. "Do you want Carlisle to come check on you."

"No, I'll be fine," I lie. I can't say, No, Edward, I can't let Carlisle see me 'cause I'm so cut up, beat up and screwed up, can I?

"Okay," he says. "Um, call me tomorrow and maybe we can work on the project again. Oh, and Carlisle said to make sure you put ice on your wrist."

"Alright, sure," I say. "You should get to school."

"Yeah. Bye, Bella."

"Bye."

We hang up, and I put the phone on my bedside table. I lie there for a little longer before sighing. I should go clean, make Charlie's pie, shower, ice my wrist and then sleep. But I don't wanna . . .

I force myself to sit up. Then put my legs over the side of the bed. Every movement I make feels so automatic, like it's all programmed and I have no choice but to go along with it. It's so robotic.

I force myself downstairs, limping slightly. I step into the kitchen and choke up at the sight of blood on the floor and walls. It'll take a while to clean up. I find a rag and get out a bucket. I fill it with warm water and mix in some soap. This is going to take forever.

I sit the bucket down on the floor next to the pool of blood from two days ago. I start scrubbing as hard as I can, watching as it comes off. The floor's actually turning a pristine white as I scrub. I decide to do the whole floor just so Charlie might be pleased.

I sigh. He's never pleased so who am I hoping to kid? I guess myself. I feel the need to lie to myself so I feel better. But it's so hard to feel better. It's almost impossible.

I sigh again and sit back on my heels. This is going to be a long day . . .

By the time I'm putting the pie in the oven, my wrist feels like it's throbbing. It hurts so much. And I'm trying not to cry.

I once heard that it's not a sign of weakness when a person cries, but a sign they've been too strong for far too long. I wonder if that would apply to me. I've been dealing with this for five years, and yet I'm still strong. Well, strong enough to not do anything.

But I'm also too scared. I'm afraid that if I tell, Charlie will kill me. And I'm afraid that if I do die from Charlie, that everyone will shun me even if I am dead. I'm afraid that death holds no peace, that life holds no meaning – that I'm simply stuck here with no real purpose.

Maybe I don't have a purpose. When I was younger, before everything happened, I had dreams of being the next Picasso, of being a famous artist. But then I remembered that most artists became famous after they died, and I was content with simply being an artist and selling paintings when I could, living as a "starving artist".

But now . . . I don't know. I don't want to be an artist that everyone whispers about, saying she was abused when she was younger. I don't want that. I don't want my work to be influenced by everything I'm going through.

I sit down at the kitchen table with a bag of ice rolled in a towel on my wrist. My stomach growls, and I force myself back up. I need to eat something. But then I stop. What can I eat? I'm not allowed to take food unless it's an apple for my lunch or given to me by Charlie, which is really rare, but we're out of apples. I used the last on the pie.

I sigh, inhaling the scent of the baking pie. I guess I won't be eating today . . .

The phone rings again, and I pick it up.

"Swan residence," I say.

"Hello, this is Mrs. Cullen, is Bella home?"

"This is she," I say. "Hey, Esme."

"Oh, Bella, dear, how are you? Edward said you were sick," she says with real worry.

"Oh, I'm doing better," I lie. "I got some good sleep."

"That's good," she answers. "I made some chicken noodle soup for you. Would you mind if I dropped by to bring it to you?"

"Oh, um," I glance around the house quickly. There's nothing here that would suggest . . . wrong things. "Yeah, that'd be fine. My dad shouldn't be home for a while, anyway."

"Alright, dear," she says. I give her my address and we hang up. I quickly drag out a light-weight jacket to hide my arms and body. I check my face in the bathroom and touch up a few bruises that were showing through and a few of the new ones.

The doorbell rings about ten minutes later.

"Coming!" I call, limping down to the stairs and hoping down quickly. I limp to the door and open it to see Esme holding a bowl in her hands.

"Hello, dear," she says. She gives me a one-armed hug, and I fake a few good coughs. I feel bad about this, lying just to get some free food.

I take her into the kitchen, and we sit down. She pushes the bowl towards me, and I get up again to find a spoon. I fake a few more believable coughs, and they sounds really good.

I sit down and start eating the soup. The soup is amazing. Esme is such a good cook.

"What's cooking?" she asks as I slurp a noodle into my mouth. "Bella, manners."

She's treating me like her own kid.

"Huh? Oh, an apple pie for my dad," I say. Then I lie again, "He's had a hard week at work, so I thought this would cheer him up. When I woke up from my nap, I made this for him."

"That's really sweet of you," she says, smiling softly at me.

If only you knew, I think sadly. I take another spoonful of the soup and swallow.

We start talking, and I still fake some coughs. Before long, I'm thinking that they are real. Why am I so good at this?

"You need to get some more rest," she says. She gets up, gives me a light hug. "Bring the bowl over whenever you can. There's no rush, dear."

I watch as she leaves. I'm almost done with the soup, but she didn't stay. Huh. Whatever. I finish as the pie finishes. I get up and pull it out. It smells so good . . .

I place it on the table to cool as the door opens. I hide the bowl quickly as Charlie enters.

"Good, bitch," he says, noticing the pie. He loves calling me a bitch. He starts inspecting the floor. "You missed a spot."

My stomach sinks and I see where he's pointing. There's a few spots of dried blood in the corner. Oh, God, I hope Esme didn't see that.

"I'm sorry, sir," I say. "I'll clean it up immediately."

He gives me a kick in the small of my back as I get on my knees to clean it. My face hits the wall, and there's a sickening crack. I bite my tongue and hold a hand to my nose. There's blood gushing from it.

"Clean it up," he hisses. "And where's my dinner?"

Crap. I was too busy eating my dinner to remember his.

"Sorry, sir," I say. "I'll get to it once I finish here."

I pull the rag off my wrist and hold it to my nose. I'd rather have a throbbing wrist than die of blood lose. That'd be a crap way to die anyway . . . a nosebleed. I almost laughed at the idea. Almost.

Once I finish, I stand again, and now it doesn't look like I've missed anything.

"Get me a beer," he orders.

"Yes, sir," I say. I grab one from the fridge, pop it open and take it to him. I notice him eyeing the pie and grab a plate, fork and something to serve the pie with. I do that.

"Good," he says. "But you did promise me this _yesterday_."

"Right, sorry, sir," I answer.

I continue to prepare his dinner of hamburger and a baked potato. I hope he doesn't mind.

"Would you like cheese or bacon on your potato?" I ask politely.

"No," he replies curtly.

"Alright, sir," I say.

When I finish, he eats dinner, some of the pie and then smacks me. I don't even know what I did. And of course, he continues with it until I'm passed out from pain.

The next morning, I rolled over to see a note stuck on my bedside table. I read over it, and apparently Charlie would be out for the day, fishing with Billy Black. You know, come to think of it, I haven't seen Jacob for a few months. Maybe I'll call him later. But first, I need to work on that project.

I reach for the phone, but stop. I don't have permission to go anywhere (and I hurt way too much at the moment, anyway) and he'd kill me if anyone came over. Maybe I could just tell Edward I still don't feel good.

And, as if he read my mind, the phone rings, and it's the Cullens' number. I pick it up.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey, Bella," says Edward on the other end. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," I lie. "That soup Esme brought over was really helpful."

"Chicken noodle soup does wonders," he agrees. "Anyway, wanna come over? To work on the project, I mean."

"Oh, um, I still don't feel up to getting out of bed much," I say. And I'm not lying. I need to take a shower, but I really don't feel like getting out of my nice warm bed.

"I can come over, then," he says.

"Um, yeah," I say. "Sure."

"Okay, I'll be there in a little bit," he says.

We hang up and I force myself to get out of bed. I dress, but it's so painful. I end up in a sweater and a pair of clean sweats. God, I barely bother for anything, anymore. I go into the bathroom and check on my face. I wash it real fast and then apply makeup .I brush my teeth right as the doorbell rings. I'm rewrapping the bandage as I go down to open it.

"Hey," says Edward as I open the door.

"Hi," I answer quietly.

He lifts his bag. "I've got everything in here."

"Okay, cool," I say. "We can work in my room, I guess."

"Sure," he says.

I lead the way, and take a seat back on my bed, propping up the pillows. Edward sits at the foot of my bed, getting out everything. Then he stops and looks at me hard, squinting his eyes.

"What?" I ask.

"I thought . . ." He moves closer and wipes away the makeup on my cheek. "I knew it. Where'd you get this bruise?"

"Huh? Oh, I tripped and hit my cheek on the banister downstairs," I lie quickly. I practice these lies, making up ones for all of them.

"Then why'd you cover it?" he asks.

"It's an ugly bruise," I say.

"Oh," he says.

I nod and he goes back to organizing.

"Did you want to see some of my paintings?"

"Oh, yeah, where are they?" he asks.

I get up and walk as naturally as possible to my laptop. I grab it and come back, lifting up the screen. I hit the power button and wait for it to turn on.

"I've sold most of them on the Internet," I say. "I have an eBay account, and people bid on them often. I've got an online gallery, too, where I can post new pictures of the work, and even the in-between process."

"Sweet," he says.

I pull up the gallery and hand over the laptop. I scoot over so I can see what pictures he's looking at.

As he flips through, he makes little comments about them, the ones he likes, asking about the materials I used on it. I tell him I mostly use oil paints.

"Do you have any for sale right now?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say, taking the laptop back. I go back to my eBay page and show him the current items that are selling.

"Rose would like that," he mutters about one of them.

"Hm?" I ask.

"Oh, I'm just thinking about Christmas," he says.

"But Thanksgiving's still two weeks away!" I cry.

"Yeah, but you can never start too early, and look at the bids on it," he says, gesturing to the screen. "And I might wanna start soon."

"There's still a week before I close down the bidding and sell it," I say.

"I'll have to talk to Carlisle and Esme," he says.

I nod and put the computer back on my desk, plugging it in. I sit down on his left side and pick up his sketch.

"It's really not that bad," I say.

He laughs. "It sucks compared to what you've done."

"But we're not comparing."

I put it down as he picks up the stack of papers with everything we're supposed to complete.

He moves it over so I can see better.

_-Detailed sketch of a human skeleton_

_-Labeled bones_

_-Larger, 3D model of the skeleton_

_-Creativity is a must_

_-Use whatever products you deem necessary, but no help from an adult_

_-Report about how you would change how it was done if you were to do the project again_

"Okay, so I don't have anything that can be used to make the 3D model," I say, putting the list down.

"What about paint brushes?" he asks.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "They're kinda expensive."

"Oh, okay."

I get up after thinking about that box of clay in my closet. I open the door and get on my knees, digging through piles of random magazines, some clothes, a bloody t-shirt, and some more art supplies. I find the clay and sit back up, looking back at Edward.

"We can make it with clay, and then paint some designs on it like the Mexican Day of the Dead skulls and skeletons," I explain, getting back up, wincing as I move my wrist wrong.

"Awesome idea!" he says with a grin. "Think that'll cover the 'creativity is a must' part?"

I laugh. "Hopefully. But We'll probably have to get some more clay. I don't think I have enough for the whole skeleton."

Edward nods.

I shoo Edward out of the house at a little before five. Charlie will probably be home soon with the day's catch and I'll have to clean the fish and make something with them. And store the others.

As I'm doing the dishes that have piled up for a while, I get another phone call. I feel popular.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Hi, Bella, it's Jacob," says the other person.

"Hey, Jake, what's up?" I say, leaning against the counter.

"Oh, not much," he says. "MY dad and Charlie haven't shown up yet. Normally they're home by now."

"Oh, really?" I say, feeling suddenly scared for Billy, but so relieved for myself. Maybe I'll get the night to myself.

"Yeah," he says. I hear fabric shift in the background. "But I think I say Charlie bring a tent with him, so they may be camping. I already tried his cellphone – no answer."

I can't help but start smiling. I shift slightly against the counter as it digs into that cut on my back.

"I'll check real fast," I say. "I know where he keeps it."

"Okay," Jacob responds.

I walk to the small closet in the kitchen and open it. Random object fall out like always, but I don't see the tent.

"Yeah, he took the tent," I say. "It's not in here."

"Oh, okay," he says. "I was just kinda worried about them." I hear the fridge open on his side and the sound of a bottle opening. "So what's up with you?"

"Not much," I lie. "I've been working on a school project with one of the new kids, Edward Cullen."

"Cullen?"

"No."

"Oh, okay."

We keep talking for a while before I hang up, lying about eating something. Instead, I go take a shower. I wash the cuts and poke a few bruises, whimpering. I'm such an idiot.

As I get out, I hear the door downstairs open and close. I wrap a towel around my body and poke my head out of the bathroom. I look down the stairs to see Charlie looking at me with such evil eyes.

"Get down here. Now," he hisses.

I walk down, wincing slightly as I move my wrist wrong. As I step off the last stair, he smacks me hard in the face. I stumble backwards, falling onto the stairs. My hand slipped away from the towel and it slipped off.

The creepiest grin I've ever seen flickered across his face.

"No, please," I whisper.

But it's too late to do anything.


	4. No!

**A/N: You know, this probably sounds rather mean, but it amuses me how much you guys get pissed off by reading this. Yeah, sorry. Go on, read now. Goooooooooooooo~**

**Oh, and sorry this is really short. Oops. But there's important stuff! Read!**

**No, wait, one more thing: I have the feeling I might be very hated in this. Or at least Charlie _more so_. Um, but still, I think you will at least be pissed at me. Um, yeah. But read! I think that was the last thing at least. Oh, and be prepared for a bit of, urm, _things_ at the end. They're - aw, screw it just read!**

I'm sitting in the corner that Monday morning, curled in a ball under a blanket. I don't want to move. I don't want to think about what had happened. I hurt too much.

I pull my knees tighter to my chest, pressing my forehead against the knee caps. Tears are streaming down my face at a rate like never before. But I'm still silent.

It's getting hot and stuff under the blanket, and I force myself to take it off for a second to get some fresher air. I look around, see my door shut and register that there is no sound except for me.

I force myself up, keeping a tight hold around the blanket. I get dressed in something that's even larger than normal that covers my body way too well.

As I pull the shirt over my head, I glance at my bed. I flashback, seeing myself tied down, him over me.

"No!" I cry aloud, jerking myself out of that memory. I hear nothing else downstairs, thinking how Charlie's hopefully at work. I grab my bag, refusing to look anywhere but at the floor.

I walk down the stairs after checking my makeup and putting some on my arms, just in case. Then I walk out the front door. As I walk along, I can't help but think of how much I hurt. I don't want this to happen anymore. This is such crap. I don't want to deal with this anymore. But . . . what else can I do? Kill myself?

No.

I won't be like my mother. I won't take the guilty way out. I'm better than that. Oh, Mom, why'd you have to leave me? I need you!

As I walk along, I realize there is no Edward to pick me up today, and I'm fine with this. I don't want to get a ride with him.

I also think about how sore I am. In such . . . areas.

I wipe a few tears away with my hand and feel my eyes stinging.

When I finally get to the school, it's to have Alice jump on me with a tight hug. I want to cry out to run from her, she's hurting me so much, but I don't. That'd give away everything . . . And he'd hurt me something fierce. Well, more than usual.

"Hi, Bella!" she says, smiling brightly at me. Then she notices the tears. Her smile fades and she looks worried. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lie, wiping away the tears.

"You can't fool me that easily," she says, "I can tell something's wrong. Tell me, please."

"I don't wanna talk about it," I say truthfully. I really don't.

She gives me a sad look and then pulls something out of her jacket pocket. She puts a black and blue braided bracelet around my left wrist, and I notice a matching one around hers.

"I'm always here for you," she says. "Now, come on, time for school."

She takes my hand and leads me off.

"Oh, yeah, and how are you doing?" she asks.

"A lot better," I lie.

"Good," she replies. "I missed you. Hey, you wanna go shopping with me and Rosalie after school this Friday?"

"Um," I say. I kind of want to, but Charlie . . .

"It's okay if you still don't feel up to it," she says, shrugging. "I'll buy you something and then I'll do your makeup and stuff before school on Monday, okay?"

"Yeah," I mutter. I brushed my bangs out of the way as we walked.

"Hey, can I curl your hair sometime?" she asks.

"Okay," I mumble. I don't feel like talking anymore. She's getting so close, and I'm afraid she'll find out.

"Can you come over after school?" she asks.

"I'll ask," I say.

She nods and we part to go to our separate classes.

When I call Charlie at lunch from Edward's cell phone, he snaps at me and says he found out I wasn't at school on Friday, that I skipped.

Every new sentence brings a new stab of pain to my chest. I flinch with every insult brought to me. When he finishes, we hang up, and I slide down the wall, curling into a ball. I shut my eyes, hiding my face under my arms.

I sit there for a few minutes before the door to the little area I'm sulking in. I glance up to see Edward. He kneels down next to me.

"What's wrong?" he asks. I give another sob and bury my head back in my arms. "Hey, Bella, hey, it's okay."

H sits next to me and wraps his arms around me. I freeze up at his touch, not sure what to think. But he's . . . different. I don't know if I can trust him, but right now – I kind of don't care. I relax in his arms after a second, and he starts saying random words in my ear, trying to calm me down.

It works but only after lunch is technically over, and we're supposed to be in biology.

"Let's just skip," says Edward.

"No," I say, shaking my head, thinking of Charlie. "No."

"Oh," he says. "Well, it'll be suspicious if we both show up together so late."

"I guess we can just skip the class," I mumble.

We sit there, leaning against the wall and watching the clouds.

"It looks like a bat," I say, pointing with my left hand.

"What's that?" Edward asks, pulling my left arm over. He rolls the sleeve up and finds the word 'whore' written there. I'm just glad I hid the bruises. "Bella!"

I remain silent, debating if I should lie that I did it or just not say anything.

"Bella, this is stupid! What do you mean by doing this!" he shouts with anger.

I yank my arm back and curl in on myself again.

"Bella, what's wrong? What's going on? I just wanna help."

I look up and drop the sleeve over my wrist.

"Bella?"

"Just drop it, Edward," I sigh finally and stand up. I walk away, through the woods and towards nowhere in general.

But as I walk through the woods, I wonder if anyone would understand if I were to say something about Charlie.

That day is the hardest thing for me to deal with. And I usually don't think about it, so I don't know why I am now.

I let out a sigh, seeing my breath form in a white cloud. At least it's not raining.

"GODDAMMIT!" I scream as thunder cracks a few seconds later. Rain begins falling and I'm soon soaked. "Can this day get much worse?"

"Bella?" I hear someone say.

"What now?" I shout, turning around. "Oh."

Jacob's standing in front of me with a perplexed look on his face.

"Oh," I say again.

"Oh?" he responds, lifting an eyebrow. He walks over and hugs me. "How have you been?"

"Well, you called me on Saturday, so not much has happened," I lie. I lie way too much.

"Oh, yeah, right," he says. He releases me. "So why are you here? Don't you have school?"

"Uh, well-"

Jacob laughs. "I get it. C'mon let's go skip and have some fun. And anyway, we should get out of the rain, less you wanna get sick."

I nod and he leads me out of the woods, only after I trip over stumps, twigs, and the ground itself about thirteen times. I think that's the right number, anyways.

Jacob laughed a lot when I tripped and fell on my face, and it hurt. A lot. I'm falling on these bruises, all these cuts, and who knows what else, and he just laughs.

"Can you stop laughing at me?" I mumble as I stand up, brushing dirt and leaves from my jeans.

"Yeah, sorry," he says as we walk into his house. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey, Billy," I say, pulling my wet jacket off. Thank you dark, long-sleeved shirts for not being see-through and perfect for hiding under.

"Bella? Don't you have school?"

"Uh-"

"Student holiday," Jacob lies for me. Thank you!

We I get home later that day, it's to find Charlie there with a leather belt in his hand. He's glaring down at me, and I'm wondering what I did to piss him off this time.

"Hello, sir," I say.

"Get on your knees," he hisses.

"Yes, sir," I say and comply. I look up at him, praying I'm not about to die.

"Strip," he commands.

"What?" I ask, looking up at him with a mixture of surprise and fear.

"You heard me," he says, giving me a swift kick in the stomach.

I wince slightly and hold my stomach with one hand, but I do comply, knowing it may or may not be better for me. And now I'm sitting there in just my underwear.

He smirks and squats down to stand in front of me. He reaches around and handcuffs my hands behind my back. He reaches one hand up after finishes and smacks me.

The blow was so hard that I fall over onto my stomach. He stands up and places a firm foot on my butt.

"Hey, James!" he calls.

James . . . James? I've heard the name before, but who is he? I glance up, shaking my hair away from my face to see a man with long blond hair, really pale skin and a gleam in his eyes I really don't like.

"All yours," says Charlie, handing him the whip and walking out of the house.

"You know, even with such an abused body, you are quiet pretty," he says, pulling me up. He presses his mouth to mine, and locking his arm around my waist so I can't move. "Now, be a good girl and I won't use this."

_I hate my life_.


	5. Is This Happiness?

**A/N: This is actually a pretty happy chapter. Probably gross at some points, but mostly happy. So, yeah, have fun with that. This is probably one of the few happy chapters in this story. Sorry. Well, in the early part of it anyway.**

It's been about a two weeks since that – incident. I haven't told anyone, but why would I start now? I haven't said anything about it in five years. The Cullens have noticed I've become very withdrawn from them, more than usual. They ask me a lot of questions, but I never tell them the truth. Example:

"Something happened."

"What?"

"My friend's sick."

"Are they going to be okay?"

"Probably. But I'm still worried."

I spent Sunday at their house because Charlie was out fishing. He even said I could spend the night. He was probably bringing some stripper home, so I quickly got out, mostly before he changes his mind.

I walk all the way there. It wasn't too far actually, up the hill, through the woods –

"And to Grandma's house we go," I say with a chuckle as I knock on the door.

Jasper opens it and shows me inside with a trace of a smile.

"Bella!" came the energetic cry of Alice before I could say anything to Jasper. She tackles me in a hug, and I would have hit the floor if Jasper hadn't grabbed my shoulders.

"Get off, Alice," he says.

She pouts but does. I stand back up, thanking him.

"Edward's up in his room," she says.

"I didn't intend to send all my time with him," I say, dropping my bag on the floor by the door.

"Yay!" she cries, hugging me tightly again. I feel like dying with the amount of pressure she puts on me.

Jasper senses my distress and pulls her off, holding his arms around her small waist.

"Let her hang out with Edward for a while, and then monopolize her time," he says, tossing her over his shoulder and walking off.

"Bye!" she calls from where she lays like a potato sack. And yet, she looks so comfortable.

"See ya," I say and walk up the stairs. I knock on Edward's door and hear the sound of music stop inside. He opens the door.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," I respond. He lets me in, and I flop onto his couch. "Charlie's letting me stay for the night."

"Esme'll make you stay with Alice and Rose," he says, sitting on the other end of the couch.

"Of course," I say.

We talk for a while about random things and then Edward shots up randomly. He throws himself down on the floor, and I panic, wondering what the hell he's doing.

"Are you okay?" I ask as he crawls under the couch. I lean over and look under just to see his butt in my face. I sit back up, trying to get that image out of my head.

"Yeah, I'm just trying to find something," he says. I feel myself rising, and give a squeak. "Sorry. That was me. Anyway, I've noticed how you always read these beat up books, so I got you something new."

He crawls back out. I laugh and brush dust out of his hair and off his shoulders. He lifts up a paperback book.

"_Pet Sematary_?" I ask.

"Yep," he says. "I haven't read it, yet. Tell me how it is when you're done."

I nod and open to the first page.

"Bella, don't read now, silly," he says.

"Oh, right, sorry," I say with a nervous laugh.

He laughs slightly, and I put the book down.

"Did that cut heel?"

"Not yet."

I pull up my sleeve and let him see. Parts of the letters were fading faster than others.

"Why'd you do it? And why that word?"

I don't answer. How can I tell him I didn't without telling him about Charlie?

"Yeah, we don't have to talk about it," he says.

I nod.

There's a knock at the door.

"What?" Edward calls.

Alice walks in, dragging Jasper with her.

"We're gonna play a game," she says.

"What kind of game?" I ask.

She grins and pulls me up. She drags me down the stairs while I'm trying to keep my balance and not hurt myself further. Edward walks leisurely after us. She sits me down on a loveseat and makes Edward sit next to me. She and Jasper sit next to each other on two chairs, and Rose and Emmett are on the couch.

Esme and Carlisle walk in.

"We're going out for a few hours to shop," she says.

"Don't do anything stupid," Carlisle says.

"We won't," says Alice sweetly.

"Have fun," I say.

They leave and then, once Alice is positive they're gone, she dashes out of the room. She comes back a few minutes later with some random clothes and a thick stack of paper cards.

"What the hell?" Emmett asks, voicing what had to be going through everyone's mind.

Jasper, meanwhile, is having a bit of a fit of laughter. He actually laughs so hard that he falls out of his chair.

I get up and walk over. I squat down and poke him hard in the stomach.

"Are you on any drugs I should know about?" I ask with a bit of innocence in my voice.

Everyone but Alice starts laughing, Jasper even harder.

"He is not on drugs," she says, tapping her foot. She drops the clothes and the cards on the coffee table.

"Then what's wrong with him?" I ask, standing back up.

"He just knows what we're going to be doing," she says.

"Should we scared?" I ask Jasper, looking down at the blond. Tears are streaming out of his eyes.

"Probably," he says, breathing hard. He's finally stopped, and he sits up now. He wipes the tears from his eyes.

Alice rolls her eyes, and I sit down next to Edward again.

"Anyway, these cards have different dares," Alice explains, picking them up again. She pulls the rubber band off and puts it around her wrist, shuffling them. "If you don't take the dare, you have to wear a costume – a ridiculous, stupid, frilly costume. And that's just for the guys. Girls, we have to wear something very revealing. And guess what. You get part of the costume at a time. Each person has their own costume.

"Emmett, you're going to be a ballerina, in pink with a tutu, leotard, tights – all that. Edward, you get to be a princess fairy. And my Jasper gets to be a kitty." She latches her arms around his neck as she spoke, and I wonder momentarily if he'll choke. But she lets go and continues. "Rose, you get to be one of those cowgirls from some of those country music videos. I'm going to be a witch. And Bella, you're going to be the female Mad Hatter."

I feel my heart pounding against my chest. How do they not hear it? There's no way I can wear what they're asking me to. I can't do that. These dares better be something that won't kill me mentally or physically.

"Anyway, I'll go first just so you can get a better picture," she says.

She hands the cards to Jasper who shuffles them one more time. Then he pulls one off the top.

"Really?" he asks, looking at her.

"What is it?" Rose asks, starting to get up. Alice shoots her a look, and she sits back down, her eyes widening slightly.

"'Drink soda out of Jasper's bellybutton'," he reads, giving her a disgusted look. He places the card on the table, face up.

"At least you clean yours out," she says with a bright smile.

"Ew," I say.

They laugh, and Jasper grudgingly gets a bottle of soda. Alice makes him lay on his back and unbuttons his shirt. She uncaps the bottle and pours it into his bellybutton.

"_How_ did you come up with this?" he asks.

She shrugs and bends down, sucking the soda out.

"That tickles!" Jasper cries, laughing and trying to roll away.

Alice lifts her head up a few seconds later. "That tasted really weird."

"Oh, really?" Edward asks. "Never would've thought someone's bellybutton tasted odd."

Jasper sits up and re-buttons his shirt.

"_Never_ do that again," he says.

"If you say so," she says.

Jasper hands me the cards and I pull one off the top. I read over it and look up.

"'Draw a flower on Emmett's chest'," I read. "That's it?"

"I did all the work," says Alice. "And Google can't answer everything."

I shrug. "Well, on with, Jasper."

He complies with much grumbling from Emmett when Alice hands him a pink marker. He draws a giant flower that takes up his whole torso. Jasper even signed his name on Emmett's waist.

"Perfect!" he declares.

"I hate you," Emmett grumbles and pulls his shirt back on.

I pass the cards to Edward.

"'Kiss the person next to you'," he says. "You knew either Bella or I would get that, didn't you?"

"Actually, I was hoping I got it," she says, shrugging.

"I'm not kissing him," I say before they continue.

"Oh, am I not good enough for you?" Edward says, cocking an eyebrow.

"Th-that's not – I don't know you that well," I say. But in truth, the last person I kissed was James, and I do not want to freak out.

"Kiss him or you wear this," Alice says, holding up a small, brown skirt with a gold pattern.

"Couldn't I wear that hat?" I ask desperately. They'll see most of the bruises on my legs if I wear that skirt.

"Oh, come _on_, Bella," Emmett says.

I sigh and look up at Edward.

"I won't bite," he says.

I feel a growing sense of panic but finally lean over. He leans down and presses his lips gently to me. I was scared, but something about him calmed me down. But I broke away very quickly.

"Happy?" I say.

"Oh, come on, I'm sure he wasn't that bad," Rose says.

"Was I?" Edward asks.

"No," I mutter, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Edward seems amused and hands the cards to Rose.

As the game goes on, Emmett is actually the first one to refuse a dare. His dare was to go a month without video games. He flat out refused, stood up, grabbed a piece of clothing and went to the bathroom. He came back in a pink leotard, nothing else.

Rose just about died of laughter. The rest of us laughed pretty hard, too.

Alice cracked next at the idea of dying her hair pink. She came back with a very short black dress on. Jagged at the edge. Jasper had a sly smile on his face as he looked at her.

Edward cracked next at the mention of telling everyone his deepest secret. He was forced to put on a sequin green shirt that only covered the chest area. I couldn't look at him without laughing.

Rose cracked at the idea of dying everything she owned black and having to dress all in black (Gothic black) for a week. She's now wearing a white shirt (through which Emmett pointed out you could see her bra) that ties at the front and shows all of her stomach. Alice would pick costumes like this.

When Carlisle and Esme come back, it's to find Edward in a newly-added green sequin skirt, Jasper in a black leotard and a tail, Emmett with a pink tutu and a tiara in his hair, Rose with a short denim skirt added on, Alice with witch's hat on, and me in normal clothes.

"What happened?" they ask together.

"Alice said we were going to play a game. And we did. But I think I won," I explain. "See, I'm not in some insane costume, or cross-dressing like the guys."

Emmett, Edward and Jasper seem to take this as a major blow and sulk slightly.

"I think we're going to leave again," says Esme and drags Carlisle back out of the house.

"Adios!" cries Emmett. "Now, Bella, your turn. Edward, pick a card."

He's getting way to into this.

"'Place ice cubes down your shirt, and leave them there until they melt'," he says. "'And the person next to you has to place them down there'."

"Really?" I ask, glaring at her. "That is so invasive."

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. She gets up and returns moments later with a plate of ice. She hands the plate to Edward.

"Sorry," he says, taking the first and dropping them down my shirt. They get caught in my bra, and I'm freezing.

"Damn you, Alice!" I scream as he drops the final ice cube. "Go to hell."

"Love you, too," she says.

I sigh. Then shiver. "What gave you this idea?"

She shrugs.

Edward has to ask out the girl he likes. He looks worried and then turns to me.

"Will you go on a date with me?" he asks.

My eyes go wide, and Alice falls out of her chair, so surprised by this. None of expected this, at all.

"Uh," I stammer. I swallow. "Yeah, I will."

He smiles and hugs me. "Thanks for not making me look stupid," he whispers in my ear.

"But I meant it," I respond just as quietly.

He lets go, and we move on with the game. The ice cubes are starting to melt, and my shirt's getting wet. This is gonna turn into a wet t-shirt contest. That would so figure. At least I don't have white on.

Rose has to lick Jasper's ear and bite it. Jasper seems to be on the bad end of a lot of these. He rubs his ear after Rose lets go, saying that it hurt.

Emmett then has to have someone of his choosing that's not Rose sit on his lap until it's his turn again. And so he decides to torture me by making me sit on him. I am so apprehensive and nervous about it, but I go through anyway, telling him I'm going to smack him if he starts doing anything.

"I'm loyal!" he says, shocked.

I shake my head and wait. Most of the ice has melted, but I'm still so cold that I feel gooseflesh there.

Alice is unlucky enough to be dared to eat a sardines and peanut butter sandwich. She refused and got to pull on fishnet stockings.

"Humph," she declared, sitting back down. "Never ever ever."

Jasper refuses to go streak through the middle of town (don't blame him, it's cold!) and now has whiskers painted on his face.

My turn, and I have to put on Edward's shirt. His real shirt, not the green, sequin one. I go to the bathroom and pull on the tight, gray, long-sleeved shirt. I'm just happy it's long-sleeved.

"Hey, Eddie, why do you wear tight clothes?" I ask, seating myself on Emmett again. I'm still not comfortable about this. But at least I'm not wearing that wet one anymore, and I cheated and dumped out the other ice cubes. But they won't know that.

"Don't call me Eddie," he says. "And it's an old shirt. But it was clean. So I wore it."

I shrug and then it's his turn. Rose refuses hers of kissing the next person that walks into the room ("I am not kissing Carlisle or Esme!") and puts on leather wrist bands with leather strings.

Emmett's turn and I take my seat. We continue the game, until everyone but me has on their full costume. I laugh at them, running to get the camera in Alice's room before they dare to take off anything. I take a picture of Edward from as many angles as I can. I do the same for the others and ask Alice for some copies.

She agrees.

We eat dinner, and I, as the winner, force everyone to stay in their costumes. I was smirking throughout dinner.

"Pleased, are you?" Emmett asked with a bit of menace.

"Yup," I say. "Most fun I've had in months."

And this time I'm not lying.

"Months?" asks Esme.

"Yep," I answer. "Boring life before you guys moved in. No friends, pretty much. Spent my time painting. And-"

I'm suddenly up and flying to the bathroom. I manage to shut the door and get over the toilet before throwing up. The vile burns my throat as my dinner make another appearance.

"Bella?" I hear someone ask, knocking on the door. It's Edward. "You okay?"

I finish, flush the toilet and wash my hands, cupping them and drinking some water. I open the door.

"Better," I say. "Something probably just didn't agree with me."

We walk back out and they all ask me what happened. I told them what I told Edward.

I shove my plate away. "I'm not that hungry anyway."

"Are you sure you want to stay?" asks Esme.

"I'm not going home just 'cause something didn't agree with me," I answer. "Besides, it's _so funny_ seeing Edward as a fairy, Emmett as a ballerina, and Jasper as a cat. I'm not going home with them still dressed as that!"

With the lies taken out, though, it would have read differently: I'm not going home because something didn't agree with me. Charlie would probably kick my ass, and enjoy me along with the stripper. Sorry, but I don't feel like dealing with that and everything else.

We play some more games, but these aren't going to be ones that involve stripping, cross-dressing, or anything else. Just normal games.

In the end, we each go to our separate bedrooms, but I camp out on the couch. They kept offering me other places, but I said I was fine.

"Good night!" I said, ending their argument as I rolled over on my side, back to them, and pulled the blanket over my head.

They left and I rolled back onto my back. I sighed and lowered the blanket. I eventually fell asleep, but I didn't sleep very well. I end up waking up at a little after three, my heart pounding and drenched in sweat. The blankets are twisted around my legs, and I had to work hard to get them off.

I sat up, swinging up legs over the side. I put my face in my hands, sighing. I never sleep right anymore. And now I don't wanna sleep again, afraid to return to the nightmare.

I clutched my stomach as another wave of nausea washed over me. I dashed to the bathroom in time to throw up nothing but water and stomach acid.

"Damn," I muttered aloud. I spent the rest of the night running back and forth to puke. Maybe I'm really getting sick this time.

Jasper was the first one down the stairs in the morning. Well, except for Carlisle. He was already at work.

"Hey, Bella," he said, standing at the foot of the stairs. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," I say before running off again.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks, walking up to me when I get back. He places a hand on my forehead. "You're burning up. Esme will want you to stay here, and she'll probably call Carlisle. C'mon, back on the couch."

He guides me back and places me down, pulling the blanket up. He's acting like the older brother I had always wanted.

"Alice will be disappointed, she was going to dress you up," he says.

"There's always later," I answer.


	6. Worst Christmas Ever

Edward and I spent our date in a very awkward state. We went on a boat ride, had dinner and then sat at the table for about an hour, not looking at each other or talking. We said that we enjoyed it, but we might not do it again until we have more to talk about. But I saw how Edward was upset with this. I say he likes me. I win!

But I really don't.

"Bitch," Charlie says one morning from my doorway towards Christmas. I'm painting, but drop everything to turn to him.

"Yes, sir?" I ask.

"I'm going to be gone for a week, over that damned holiday, and James will be babysitting you," he informs me.

Then he turns and leaves before I can say anything. I drop to my knees, suddenly not knowing what to think, to feel. I'm suddenly so numb inside. I can't focus on anything, but staring at the wall in front of me. I vaguely hear the door open and close twice, once by Charlie, and I'm assuming the other time by James. Wait, James!

"Fudge," I mutter, looking around. I hear footsteps coming up the stairs and run to my window. I throw it open and slip out of it just as James enters my room.

"Get back here now, bitch," he hisses. He rushes forward as I freeze. I'm too afraid to even sneak out. He grabs me by the shirt I'm wearing and throws me on the floor inside.

"Please," I beg, "please don't hurt me."

"And where would the fun be there, beautiful?" he asks, pulling me back up.

Every day except Christmas was the same with him: wake up, shower, make breakfast, get hit, go to the Cullen house, lie, go home before dinner, make dinner for James, get abused for about two hours and then raped. And on Christmas the time spent going to the see the Cullens and lying to them was spent painting. I was still sick as hell, puking a lot. Any time of day. I hadn't thought anything of it and the tiredness that came with it. I just thought it was from Charlie or James's doing.

"Your heart's like a piñata," James whispers to me one night. He has me tied up, but in my underwear and a t-shirt. This is his sick way of getting me on edge. "And as it is that way, I can do whatever I want with it, with you, really – I can beat you as long as like, take you candy and then rip you to shreds. And all without being bothered."

I shut my eyes, jerking my head away.

"Oh, don't be like that," he says. He puts his legs on either side of my hips, still fully clothed. He places his hands on either side of my head, pushing the pillow down. He leans down, and his disgusting breath fills my lungs. He places his lips on mine, and there's nothing but forceful anger through that "kiss". If you can call it that.

Later that day, he leaves and Charlie takes his place as my "master". I've learned to just shut my eyes and go numb. That's all I can do in this situation. There's no use fighting. That just brings more pain. I don't want any more pain. He tosses a small box at me when he was finished.

He leaves and I stare at the box. The Cullens had given me small things for Christmas, and they were hiding in my closet. I pull of the brown paper on the box and pull it open. A collar . . . I force myself to wear it, sliding the black leather through the loop and forcing the metal prong through a hole. I go to the bathroom and look in the mirror. I guess it doesn't look that bad. But I sigh. I don't like this.

When I'm making dinner that night, the night before school starts again, I steal a small kitchen knife. I'm just so tired of this crap he puts me through. And I've heard it's helpful. That releasing the pain through your own will was a positive thing. I've heard that cutting can do wonders. But I don't know. I'm slightly skeptical. I mean, this could kill me. But why am I afraid of that? Death would be welcome at this point.

I go up to my room after he finishes his nightly beating. I sit on my bed and pull up left sleeve of my shirt. I dig the blade out of my jeans pocket and look at it then my wrist. Am I really going to do this?

My brain starts yelling at me, but my fingers say otherwise. They quickly position the knife on my wrist and yank down. I suck in a sharp breath as I watch the blood start coming to the surface of the wound. It starts as tiny droplets and then starts to form a river of sorts. I stare at it, thinking of what I've done. My hand is shaking that I hold the knife with. I raise it again and thrash over my arm, up to my elbow. The cuts aren't deep enough to kill me, but deep enough to bleed for a while.

Maybe I should have gone deeper. Stop all this crap that happens endlessly. But the cutting . . . it felt good.

I sigh and stick the knife into a box in my closet. I'll just use it later.

At school the next day, I'm feeling better. Maybe it's the cutting or maybe it's a mindset I've worked myself into, saying everything is better now that I have some control over the scars on my body, the blood that I shed. But it doesn't matter – I'm better, that's what matters.

"You're in a good mood," Edward comments at lunch.

I shrug. I reach over and steal part of Emmett's lunch. He doesn't stop me but Edward does.

"I need to talk to you," he says, stopping me from eating his chicken nuggets. And I know why. He saw my wrist.

"Sure," I say like I have no idea what he's talking about.

We step into the empty halls, and I lean against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest. But he breaks them apart, yanking my left arm out.

"Please don't be so rough," I whimper.

His gaze softens and he apologizes. But he rolls my sleeve up past my elbow. I'm just glad the bruises faded.

"Why?" he asks so softly, running a cold finger over them. I shiver and look away.

"You wouldn't get it," I answer. I'm not lying this time.

"Bella, I just wanna help. I told you that when I first found out. Please."

I slide down the wall, pulling my knees to my chest.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Edward kneels down in front of me.

"This really isn't healthy though."

"Hold that thought," I say and get up. I dash to the girl's bathroom, vomiting what I had eaten earlier. I straighten up and flush the sick away. Then I feel something missing from my back pocket. Something very important.

*Edward's POV*

As I watch her run off, I notice a piece of notebook paper flutter out of her pocket. I get up and walk over. I bend down and grab the little piece of paper. I unfold it, feeling like I'm probably invading so much of her privacy, but I'm too curious.

I take in what she's written and feel like crying myself.

"_You can't always see the pain someone feels._

_HOPE isn't there – LIES surround me – GUILT is pulling me down – Why should I LIVE? – Everyone HATES me, even secretly- CRYING is all I do – LIFE is a lie – TRUST left long ago – I want to DIE – Lost in a world of HATE – The TRUTH is never told – LAUGHTER isn't heard – PRIDE never existed – I have no FAITH – PAIN is all too familiar _

_My heart doesn't beat so I can live – it beats to cover up my lies_

_I live because I'm told to_

_Explain happiness, please"_

There was next a little stick figure with a one hand holding a heart, and the other holding his chin. He was asking what the heart was.

"_Not all wounds heal_

_Why bother praying?_

_You left me here, alone – I need you to be HERE – but you don't get it – that I've died inside_

_I cry because of you_

_Not all scars show_

_My life's fucked up enough_

_They say my life is the way it is because it's my fault_

_Shit happens – mostly to me though, so don't worry_

_I don't need sex. Life fucks me whenever it gest the chance_

_Every day I lie_

_Too sad to give a shit_

_Pain doesn't hurt when it's all you've ever felt_

_I hate myself_

_SICK OF CRYING, TIRED OF TRYING, YEAH, I'M SMILING, BUT INSIDE I'M DYING_"

That's what the paper read. But the words were splayed randomly across it, except for that last phrase. It was written in the very center, in large letters, underlined furiously and bubbled around. Everything else was in smaller print and less furious.

"Bella," I whisper. I need to help her. I need to talk to her. But she just rips the paper from my hand when she returns.

"Never say anything," she hisses.

"But-"

"Never," she says again and heads back to the lunch room, faking everything.

Something's up.

* * *

**A/N: I would have had this up last night, but I've decided I need a certain amount of reviews before a new chapter's posted. The number's three, though, so don't worry about some GIANT insane number. Yes, I am a bitch, why do you ask?**


	7. Cliff Diving and Secrets

As January passed, I stopped feeling sick as often. But other odd things began happening. I was hungrier than usual. Starving constantly. And I always wanted the weirdest things. I remembered that game I played with the Cullens and the sardine and peanut butter sandwich Alice refused to eat. I wanted one for weeks and finally said "screw it" and made one while Charlie was out fishing.

And one morning, February 1st to be exact, I woke up and realized I was stupid enough to not realize I had missed my period. Twice. How could I forget! Well, I was preoccupied, and I never really kept track or anything.

But I forgot! I froze and knew exactly why. But I had to be sure. So what if it's been about two months and a week or so.

I leave the house that day, walking to the center of town. I slipped into a drug store, hoping no one would recognize me and got a pregnancy test. The cashier didn't say anything, and I quickly ran home.

The time to wait for the test feels like an eternity. And then . . . and then it beeps. I pick it up. Positive.

"No!" I scream. I break it in a sudden fit of anger and insanity. I cannot bring a child up. I pull up my shirt and already there's a bump forming. Then the tears start pouring "I can't do this. N-no. Never!"

I throw the box and test into the very bottom of the trash and cover it up. Charlie can't know. Ever. I pull on a warm jacket and start running. I manage not to trip as I just run blindly. My feet have a destination in mind, but I don't know where they feel like going.

But I soon find out. I'm at the Cullen house. I'm knocking on the door before I can stop myself, and I can't make myself move as it opens. I'm staring at Edward with an open mouth before turning and running again.

"Bella!" he shouts, running after me.

I make it to the edge of the woods before he locks his arms around my waist, stopping me from moving. I'm afraid he'll feel the bump, but being in his arms where I don't feel hated, don't feel afraid, that's more important.

I spin around and lock my arms around him, clawing into his back without intention. He rubs my back, and cringe as he passes over an open wound. He settles his arms back around my waist, trying not to hurt me further.

"What's wrong?" he asks. His lips turn down at the corner and his eye brows knit together.

I shake my head, trying not to sob so loud. So hard. I don't want to cry in front of him. He already thinks something's wrong. He saw that paper. He sees the cuts, he sees the bruises that I can't hide. The boy is so observant, it's insane.

"There is so much wrong," I sob.

"Sh," he says, pulling me closer.

"No!" I cry, breaking away from him. I land on my butt on the cold ground. My jacket falls away and I curse myself for wearing a tight shirt as I glance down and see where the shirt is stretched across my stomach.

"Yo-"

I scramble to my feet and start running as fast as I could. I glanced back, and Edward was still standing in the same spot with a dumb look on his face. I kept running, amazed I could run this much.

Once again, I didn't know where my feet were taking me, but I didn't trust my feet, so I came to a stop in the middle of the woods. I could hear waves crashing from a ways away. I walked towards the sound, an idea I'd been thinking about for a long time coming through the thoughts in my head.

_Do it, Bella,_ a voice inside me says. _It's better this way. It's easier for you and the child this way_.

"You're right," I say aloud to the voice in my head. Maybe it's insanity creeping in on me, maybe it's my brain telling me this is the right thing to do and easier than going through any other pain, but I listen.

I step through the trees and come to a cliff. I realize I'm in La Push, where a lot of the guys go cliff diving. But I'm not interested in cliff diving.

As I strip off my shoes, socks and jacket, I hear the sounds that form into a symphony. There's the drums, the string section, the winds and the soft sound that I can't fit into an instrument category.

The trashing, crashing waves down below smash against the rocks. I glance down, all the way down. I think I might be able to see hell.

My breathing is soft and occasionally coming out a bit raspy, like the sound of a person who wants to cough but can't, and then that sound they make when breathing through their mouth. Those would be the strings.

My hair caresses my face, and a sort of whistling sound blows past my ears, grabbing at them and asking to be heard. The pitch of the wind varies from a higher sound to somewhere low, like an oboe.

And then there's the last. The sound of water trickling down leaves and hitting the ground, hitting another puddle.

_Plip – plip – plip – plop. _

It varies from where it hits on rough or smooth surfaces around it. And the amount of water falling at a time.

I sniffle and smell the fresh air – the sweet, grassy scent. That smell you can't find anywhere else but right before it rains.

I shift slightly on the rocks. I look down again, wondering if I really want to do this. Should I really do this? Am I really going to take my life?

Yes.

This life is pointless and meaningless, and I wish I had done this sooner. Before James did – what he did. I can't believe I'm doing what Mom did, but she did slit her wrists.

I glance down again, not because I'm scared, but interested in what I'm doing. Only I would take my life by jumping into the Pacific Ocean. During February. In Washington state. Only I.

I sigh one last time, step forward and feel a rock slip from under my foot. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the pre-rain air. And then jump.

The air screams as I go sailing down, or maybe that's me. I can't really tell. And my ponytail whips my face, and then the water hits.

It's freezing, bone-chilling and feels more like someone dumped me in the Bering Sea instead of the Pacific. The currents throw my body around like a puppet. I look up at the surface (or is that a trick and I'm facing the other way?) and see the light. Maybe it's the light to hell, as there's no way I'm going to heaven after trying to kill myself. Suicide is a sin, or so I've heard.

I'm running out of air, and I'm thrown against rock after rock. And then, as I'm drifting towards the everlasting darkness, I feel a new brush of water, a soft gentle touch of something warm and then I'm in the light again.

I gasp for breath and try to get out of the grasp I'm in.

"Bella," I hear someone say, like they've been crying, like they're so relieved.

I know that voice, though. But . . . who?

"Jake?" I croak, coughing and spitting out the salty water.

But that's the last thing I say before slipping into a world filled with darkness.

"She's in no state to do anything, let alone go to court," I hear someone saying as I sort of come to. I'm in so sore, so bruised, so pained.

My eyes slowly open and I see Carlisle and another doctor.

"Car – lisle?" I ask, lifting my hand up to the blonde man. He has the other doctor leave and takes my hand, pulling up a chair next to me.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Tired, confused – ow – in pain," I mutter.

He sighs. "Bella, when they brought you in, and we started working on you, I found out you're pregnant and abused." As he says this, he turns my arm to show all the cuts lining my arm. "And cutting."

I pull my arm away, turning to where my back is to him.

"I don't wanna talk about it," I say.

"I've already called social services," he says.

I turn back over. "So you know who's doing it?"

"Your father, correct?"

I nod. I fold my arms over my stomach. I feel a single tear slide down my cheek, and reach up to wipe it away.

"Does anyone else know?" I ask after a minute.

Carlisle takes my hand again. "Just the other doctor. He and I took photos of the bruises and cuts and abrasions and scars. And that burn on the back of your right shoulder. Your father's been arrested, but has anyone else . . . done anything to you?"

"James," I whisper, suddenly looking around to make sure he's not there.

"What's his last name?" he asks. I look at him, and he's looks so calm, but his eyes are flickering with a growing hatred.

"I don't know," I say.

"That's okay, we get it off that bastard," he says. He says 'bastard' with so much contempt, so much rage that I almost don't see him as plain Carlisle. He's more like a protector.

"When are we going to court?" I ask. "That's what I heard when I woke up. And something about not being strong enough. And why didn't I die?"

"When you heal a little more," he says. He helps me sit up and shows me my left leg, moving the blanket off it. "You broke your ankle when you fell, and you're already weak enough.

"You didn't die because of the way you hit the water," he explains. "I don't know how you hit, or from what height, but it wasn't bad enough to kill you. You have drowned if that boy didn't bring you in."

"Oh, yeah, Jacob," I say. "Where is he?"

"He's out in the waiting room. I can grab him if you wish."

"I need to talk to him, yes," I say.

Carlisle gets up and leaves the room. Jacob dashes in quickly after that and runs to me. He pulls me into a hug and brushes my still tangled hair away. Carlisle returns after a minute.

"Esme's on her way," he says. "She called me, and I had to tell her I needed to go since you had just come in."

I nod, but Jacob draws my attention back to him.

"Hey, are you okay?" he says. "Why'd you do that?"

"I just . . . you wouldn't get it," I say.

"No, I don't, you never say anything to me anymore," he says.

"I don't talk to anyone much anymore," I tell him.

He sighs and hugs me again.

"Please, don't do anything stupid ever again," he whispers.

"I'm not making promises," I say truthfully. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself.

He nods, but he doesn't seem happy with my answer. I glance at Carlisle out of the corner of my eye. He doesn't seem pleased either.

"I don't wanna talk, Jake," I say. "I'll call you later."

"Sure, just leave the guy that saved you without answers," he mutters darkly as he walks out of the room. As he does so, he brushes past Esme.

When they finally let me out of the hospital, it was go to the Cullens. They had apparently grabbed all of my stuff (and the knife I had been cutting with) and brought it back to the house. But I told Carlisle about the bed and the memories, and he and Esme got me a new one, bigger, comfier and warmer.

"Bella," Edward says in relief when he sees me. He wraps me in his arms and holds me tightly. "God, I thought I'd never see you again."

"Sorry," I say.

"Don't be sorry," he says, pushing me back at arms-length. I saw his eyes glance down at my stomach before quickly riveting to my face. "I'm surprised you never did anything sooner. You're so strong."

He pulls me into another hug, and then the others take over. Finally, I manage to get away and go to my new room. I sink down on the bed and look over everything Esme did.

She painted the walls a pale blue and the new bed with its wooden frame is in the center of the wall across from the door. A new desk with my laptop is sitting to my right. The closet is a walk-in like everyone else's, and my easel is set up in the corner with canvas and paints strewn across the floor.

My walls are blank, but there are random sticky notes everywhere. I get up and collect all of them before sitting back down to read them.

There were a few from Alice and Rose, promising to take me shopping. Jasper apologized for Alice, but said he wanted to show me some of his Civil War stuff. Emmett said he was taking me paintballing, whether I liked it or not. Edward promised to show me something secret. Esme said she'd help me hang some of my art on the walls or buy someone else's. And Carlisle promised to always be there for me.

There was a knock on my door.

"What?" I call.

Rose sticks her head in. "Esme says dinner's ready."

"Oh, thanks," I say and get up.

I walk over to her, placing the notes back on my wall. She and I walk there, but I pull Carlisle aside.

"Do I have to tell anyone anything?" I ask quietly so they won't overhear me.

"That's your choice," he says. "Esme and I want to talk to you after dinner, though. It's not bad," he adds after seeing the moment of fear flicker across my face. "Don't worry. Now, let's eat."

He sits down at the head of the table, and I quickly find the only empty seat next to Edward. I sit down, pulling my jacket around me in such a way that he can't see anything.

Dinner is . . . quiet. No one's quite sure what to say. Until Jasper "accidently" hits Edward in the forehead with his mashed potatoes. He put on a sly smile as Emmett laughs and guffaws like an idiot. I giggle at the sight.

Edward simply looks up with his eyes, and watches as the mashed potatoes slowly slip down his face.

"Well, Jasper," he says, standing up. He wipes them off and licks them off his hand. "I do believe that this is WAR!" And with that, he throws a handful of peas at him.

"You stupid rebels!" Jasper shouts.

"Oh, so we're the Union?" asks Alice, tossing some more mashed potatoes at Emmett.

"That's enough," says Esme firmly.

"Yes, if you're going to throw things at each other, do it out of the dining room," adds Carlisle. "Go to the basement or something, turn the heat up and throw water balloons."

"Yes!" cried Emmett victoriously, pumping his fist in the air. "Get in swimsuits and meet down there in ten minutes. Alice, Rose, I don't care if your makeup gets messed up, you will participate. And Bella, no whining, you too."

"Uh," I say. Everyone looks at me. "Uh, I'm not comfortable in being just a swimsuit."

"You can borrow a pair of my trunks," Edward offers.

I blush slightly and scratch the back of my head.

"And a t-shirt."

"Er," I say. I look desperately at Carlisle.

"Your choice," he says.

"Right," I mutter. They're all still watching me. "It's just that – how do I say this? – well, I'm kinda – pregnant."

The silence was so loud that followed. But then all the noise came back.

Edward, who was holding one of those plastic cups, shattered it in his hand. Alice and Rose let out squeals. Emmett and Jasper are both so surprised that they didn't really know what to do, but look at their girlfriends, each other and are completely flabbergasted, talking randomly to each other.

I look down at my hands and twiddle my thumbs.

_The cat's outta the bag,_ I think to myself, letting out a sigh.

* * *

**A/N: I know a lot of you were going "NO! DON'T MAKE HER PREGNANT!" but I already had the plot in my head (and written down, signed by me and my witness – I got a pretzel out of that), and it was going to happen. Yes, yes, this is the part where you can be pissed at me. **

**This also took me **_**hours**_** just to get the first **_**page**_** written. I kept going, "No, that's not it" and "No that's stupid" and also "AH, DAMMIT, WHY WON'T IT COME OUT RIGHT!" So I stopped for a while and worked on my book and went shopping. **

**Also, minimum of five reviews. I don't write until I get the first review, then it's just a matter of time.**

**Love you!**

**xXRayneXx **


	8. Court Time

**Disclaimer: I do not **_**Pet Semetary.**_** I am not the genius that Steven King is that has managed to scare thousands, probably millions, of people (himself included) through words. I wish I was, but I'm not.**

**Oh, and I don't own **_**Twilight**_**. This doesn't bother me that much.**

"That's - great," says Edward in a strained voice. His face is set, but his hands are shaking.

"No it's not!" I cry.

Esme gets up and wraps her arms around me tightly. I feel the tears running down my face, but I don't do anything to stop them.

"Should we talk to her now, Carlisle?" she asks.

"Yeah, sure," he says.

We get up, and they lead me up to the office. Before they close the door, Esme shouts, "Clean up, and _then_ have your water balloon fight."

"Aw!" I hear Emmett complain.

She shuts the door and sits next to me on the couch, squeezing my hand.

"You brought up being pregnant a few minutes ago," says Carlisle.

"Um, yeah," I say as though this was obvious. And it is.

"And that brings in the question of what you want to do about the baby," he concludes.

"What do you mean?" I ask. My eyebrows knit together as I stare at him.

"I mean, do you want to go through an abortion-"

"No. That would be asking to kill the child, and-and I won't do that. I can't. That's just like what I've been through." Esme gave my hand another squeeze. I wipe away the damn tears that keep threatening to fall.

"What about giving the baby to a set of parents? Planned Parenthood?" he asks.

"What if they hurt my baby?" I ask. "No, I can't do that. I can't risk that. I-I-"

I break myself off as I feel a new set of tears coming through. Esme pulls me into her arms, whispering, "Sh, it's okay" and trying to comfort me. But I'm just a wreck right now.

Carlisle sits at me feet, rubbing soothing circles into my hands, and I feel like I'm getting too much out them. Stuffed with all their support.

That night, I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The window casts odd shadows across my room, just random blobs that didn't really look like anything. I lift my right hand in the air and trace the outline of one that is on the ceiling.

I can't sleep.

Then I remember that time back near Thanksgiving.

"_Bella, don't read now, silly."_

I remember that book Edward gave me. I throw the covers off and dig through the two boxes of books I have that I haven't done anything with. I pull it out (it's sitting on the top) and sit down on my bed again. I flip open to the introduction written by King, and read through it.

I fall asleep with the book in my hands, and my night is riddled with nightmares. I wake up at three with someone shaking me slightly.

"No, don't hurt me!" I scream, shrinking against the pillows, throwing my arms up.

"Bella, it's Edward," the person answers.

I lower my arms slightly, and see it is. I reach out and touch the underside of his jaw, looking for the edge of a mask. When I don't find one, I drop my hand and push myself into a sitting position.

"You okay?" he asks, sitting on the edge of my bed. I look away, and he adds, "You don't have to lie anymore."

But I'm so used to lying. Lying was always easy. Well, after the first few months.

"They're just nightmares," I answer finally. I'm not lying that time.

"I don't like it," he says, looking out the window.

"I didn't ask for it," I tell him.

"I know," he says, sighing. "But . . . why did he do it?"

I run a hand along the cuts I've made.

"Sorry, you don't have to tell me," he says. "If you're not ready, and all."

I glance at the empty side of my queen-sized bed, feeling oddly alone. But Edward's right there. I let out a shaky breath and reach for his hand. He lets me, and I hold it.

We sit there for who knows how long, and then he gets up.

"Where are you going?" I ask, the corners of my mouth tugging down.

He doesn't answer but walks around the foot of my bed and sits next to me on the empty side. He takes my hand again.

When I wake up again, he's still next to me. But he's asleep, too. I sit up, surprised. He didn't try anything – nothing at all. I smile slightly, but then stop, my hand tracing over my stomach.

I glance at the clock. The bright red numbers glare at me, saying it's eleven, time to get up. I glare at it back and turn it face down. I throw my feet over the side of the bed, glancing at the floor. I get up and bend down, retrieving my _Pet Semetary_ copy. I'll need to tell Edward it's pretty good so far.

I find some clothes, and slip into the shower. Once out, I pull on the jeans and t-shirt, for the first time in years wearing short sleeves. As I'm sitting at my desk, applying some make up over the final bruises, I hear Edward stir.

I glance back and see him sit up. It's then that I realize he slept without a shirt. I blush and turn back to what I'm doing.

"Oh, morning," he says, yawning and stretching. He walks over and runs a hand along one of the scars on my right arm. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better," I mutter sheepishly. I feel bad about only sleeping well with him next to me.

He smiles, and we get up. He walks in one direction, and I the other, towards the kitchen with a determined look on my face. I open the fridge upon entering, and dig through the contents.

"No, no, no, no – what the hell is this?"

I push away item after item and then laugh. I turn and look at the fridge door. I pick up the carton of eggs, and kick the door shut with my foot. I set the eggs on the counter. I dig around for other things and then set to work to make scrambled eggs . . . with cheese. Because cheese makes everything better.

And things need to be better.

"You couldn't have come at a worse time, you know that?" I ask, looking down at my stomach. "But this doesn't affect you much. You're just going to be born, fed, live, grow up, and blah. There's not much going to happen to you. Don't worry about that. Don't worry, little one."

The day of the trial finally arrived. I didn't sleep a lot, too worried and anxious. I didn't even go to school anymore. Esme had taken me out and had set up private tutoring. She knew I wasn't comfortable with going there being . . . pregnant and all.

There was a knock on my door at a little after seven-thirty the day of the trial. I open the door and Alice steps in.

"Oh, Bella, what am I going to do with you?" she asks, putting her hands on her hips.

"What do you mean?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Your hair is a wreck! You're in sweats! This is not how to dress," she says. "No, not at all."

She starts going through my closet and finally finds one of the few dresses I own. I thought I had them buried in a box in the farthest recesses of my closet. Dammit, I guess I was wrong.

"Here we go," she says, holding up the dark blue dress. It falls to about my knees and was always a little large. The sleeves reach my elbows, and has a square neck line. "Blue's your color."

She forces me to change into it and helps me zip up the back. I glance in the mirror and it doesn't look too bad. But I hate showing my legs. They're not too bad to look at, I just hate it. And there's the small bump from my stomach, but you can't see it. I'm just glad the dress is still really loose.

"You look pretty," Alice assures me when she sees the look of worry growing on my face. She finds the makeup I keep to hide bruises. I haven't had a chance to clean up myself yet, but there's nothing to hide. Not anymore.

She sits me down and places curlers in my hair, snapping them in place. Then she walks off to get Rose.

"Why do you need Rose?" I call, but she's already gone.

When she _did_ come back, she and Rose bring in a larger box of makeup.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

They ignore me and begin talking in hushed tones.

"Uh, guys?" I say.

They still ignore me. But then Alice turns around with a tube of lip gloss in her hands. She uncaps it and uses the tip to apply the bright pink substance.

"I'm not a big fan of pink," I say as she turns me away from the mirror and turns the mirror down. She turns her back on me, and Rose turns back with a palette of eye shadow. She applies a light brown color and then Alice puts on black eyeliner. They decide to leave my cheeks alone, and then allow me to look in the mirror.

My lips have life with the pink lip gloss, and the eye makeup perfectly brings out my chocolate eyes. Alice and Rose each give me a light hug and then take the curlers out of my hair one by one. When they're all out, they go over my hair in hairspray, just trying to keep it all decent. The curls don't look bad either.

When they finally locate a pair of flats from Rose's closet (as I only own sneakers), they take me out to show the rest of the Cullens. Esme gave me a loving look, and Carlisle, Emmett and Jasper also nod their approval.

"You look . . . great," Edward whispers from my side.

"Um, thanks," I say, blushing.

"Maybe we should have added blush," Alice says to Rose upon seeing this. "She looks good with the color in her cheeks."

"Yes, we should have," Rose agrees.

They glance at each other and then simultaneously shout, "I'll get it!" and run off.

While they're gone, I go to find something to munch on. As I return, they walk into the living room. I take the long way around, through the dining room as they walk into the kitchen.

"Bella!" they shout, walking towards me.

"Fudge," I mutter and back up. "Aw, come on, I don't need to wear more ma- AH!"

I start falling backwards, but feel someone grab my shoulders as Emmett and Jasper lunge towards me. I look up to see who grabbed me and see Edward slowly getting me back on my feet.

"Thanks," I tell him.

"Aw!" Rose and Alice say together, a stupid, loving look on their face.

Emmett and Jasper are now lying at my feet, and Esme and Carlisle share this look that really irks me.

"Can we just go?" I ask, suddenly pissed at all of them. Why the hell did they have to enter my life?

_Well, I most definitely am pregnant._

I laugh.

"Hormones," Emmett says from my feet, wrapping his arms over his head.

We all laugh.

At the court house, I stay close to Carlisle and Esme, afraid of anything happening. But mostly just wanting support.

"Calm down, Bella," says Esme, hugging me before we enter the courtroom. The lawyer had just entered, and we were the last three left outside. "You need to calm down. You look beautiful at the moment, and confidence will help you. Even if there is no way we can lose."

That's a major confidence boost. _No way we can lose_.

We enter a moment later and take our seat at the table with our lawyer. I glance behind me and Alice and Rose give me big thumbs up. Emmett and Jasper smile and nod, then return to bickering quietly about video game strategies. Edward gives me a soft smile and reaches up to squeeze my shoulder.

The doors open and two police officers enter with Charlie in handcuffs. He smirks at me as his lawyer walks in behind him. I turn away, and Esme squeezes my hand.

"Confidence," she whispers.

I sit up straighter and hold my head a little higher, but I'm nervous as hell.

"All rise for the honorable Judge Turner," says the court reporter.

We all stand, but I don't look back like everyone else. Judge Turner is a middle-aged woman with soft gray hair that curls around her face. She takes her seat and bangs her gavel.

As the case wears on, I grow more and more uneasy. And hungry. Mostly I want some baked potatoes and ketchup with some pickles, but a little bit of hot chocolate wouldn't be bad either.

Charlie's sitting in that box next to the judge.

"I have never touched a hair on her head in a harming manner," he was saying. Lying bastard. I feel Carlisle stiffen next to me. He's just as pissed as I am. He's the one who had to find out when I tried to kill myself. "It was not me. It had to be one of her new friends, and she must have been afraid to tell."

"Liar," I hiss.

It's my turn a minute after that. I get to tell them everything. The judge isn't going to judge me, and the Cullens already know. Charlie has this look of smugness in his eyes as he watches me get up there.

"My 'father' is nothing but a liar," I say. "And a hypocrite. He told me to never lie, but he's doing that himself. Well, that was when I was younger. Then, when I was twelve, he came home drunk. He hit my mother, and I tried to stop him. He hit me. The next morning, he apologized, but he did again that night – sober. That continued for a week and then he stopped, because I couldn't hide the bruises well enough then. My mother wasn't sure how either.

"It continued on and off for about a year like that," I explain further. "And he didn't seem to care that much. Mother and I learned how to care for cuts and burns and how to cover things up. I became a good liar far too quickly. And then it became a regularly basis. Come home from school, clean, start dinner with Mom, get beat and watch the other hurt. It was never nice, never easy."

"Where's your mother now?" asks his lawyer.

"She's dead," I say quietly, looking at my hands. "She killed herself when she couldn't take it anymore. That was about a year ago. She slit her wrists and bled out in the bath tub while he and I were at work and school. I came home and found her there with a note meant for only I to see. That note told me to join her, to pick up the razor sitting next to her. But I didn't.

"It kept getting worse as time wore on. He let his friends hit me and . . . have their way with me."

I trail off, and the judge looks down at me.

"What's happened recently?" she asks kindly.

"Oh, I'd have to go back to Thanksgiving to tell you," I say and she nods. "Right. The most recent stuff has happened after I met the Cullens. I was supposed to work on a project with Edward, and I didn't get a chance to ask him, my 'father', about the project because he started a-abusing me." I can't believe how calm I am. "And I sprained my wrist at that time. The next day, I got a ride to school with Edward as it was pouring down rain. I think he saw one of the bruises I had on my stomach at the time.

"Things seemed even worse after I met them, and when he came over to work on the project-"

"You had a boy in the house?" Charlie shouts.

"It was for a project," I say weakly.

He snarls at me and shrink back, my lower lip trembling slightly.

"Restrain him!" Judge Turner orders.

They do, and she nods at me.

"When he was over, he saw one of the bruises I had rushed to cover up. He wiped away the makeup, and I lied, saying I tripped and hit the banister," I said. "I lied about being sick on that day, too. I lied to Mrs. Cullen just to get something to eat. I lied to my friend, Jacob Black. I lied to everyone."

I sigh and continue. "That was the first night he – raped me. I had just gotten out of the shower and didn't have time to change and when I accidently dropped the towel when he smacked me.

"At lunch the next day, I called him again to see if I could go over to their house. He yelled at me, and I broke down. Edward found me again and he calmed me down when our biology class was almost over. So we didn't go. We sat there and watched the darkening clouds. I pointed up at one and my sleeve dropped a little, I guess, because Edward saw some of the cuts. I hadn't cut yet at this point, this was something his friends had done. They had written 'whore' there, and Edward thought I did it. I let him think that, because there wasn't a way to tell him without telling him about what happened at home.

"When I got home, I met James," I say. "I was told to get on my knees and strip. I did, afraid to get hurt. James came out and I spent a night with him. The Cullens noticed just how quiet I had become and were worried. I lied to them. I started getting sick a few weeks later. Christmas was spent with James and I really don't want to go into that. There was just more pain.

"Then came the first time I cut," I say. "I went from the top of my wrist to my elbow on my left arm. Some were deeper than the others, and you can still see." I hold my arm out and I notice the Cullens shift uncomfortably. "Edward found out the next day at lunch. He found the note I had written. I destroyed it later. It had things about how much I hated my life, things like – and sorry for the language – 'I don't need sex. Life fucks me when it can.'

"At the beginning of February, I tried to kill myself. I had just figured out I was pregnant-"

"You did what, bitch?" Charlie shouts, dropping all pretense of being a loving father.

"I didn't try," I explain. I blink away tears for the first time during this trial. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rose and Alice making their hands into the shapes of hearts. I smile slightly and go on, trying to forget about Charlie. "Like I was saying, I tried to kill myself. I couldn't bring up a child in a situation like that. So found it simpler to kill myself. And everything had been eating at me for so long, and I just couldn't take it. But Jacob Black found me. He took me to the hospital, and Carlisle stitched me up – so to speak – and I started staying with them. So here we are today," I finish lamely.

The judge had decided Charlie was guilty of child abuse – physical and sexual. When we return home, I wander up to my room, shut the door quietly behind myself and move over to my bed. I sit down softly on the cover, running my hand over the smooth surface. There's a knock at my door.

"Come in," I call.

Edward steps in and shuts the door again. He sits down next to me.

"Things are going to be different now, aren't they?" I ask.

"Very different," he says, entwining his fingers with mine gently.

"But for the better," I say, looking over at him.

He nods and wraps his arms around me, placing a kiss on my forehead. It surprises me, and I'm slightly uncomfortable, but it's different now. I don't need to be afraid.

_Things are different now._

**A/N: You know, I'm really fucking mad with this. Pardon the language. But seriously, half of you are yelling at me for a fucking element in the story. If you're not happy with it, read something else. I'm about to go put a fucking warning in the summary. Stop yelling at me for it, too, will you? Or at least tell me why you don't like it. Don't just yell, leave no reason and be pissed. TELL. ME. WHY. GODDAMMIT.**

**Also, those reviews will slow me down from writing. I like **_**construction**_** criticism, not just "How dare you!" It's not that great. How would you like being told your wrong for what you do? Gosh.**

**And, on the note of updating, I'm sorry this took forever. This has been a crazy busy week. Last night, Thursday, my school had the opening night of our first play (bit late aren't we?) and I had to stay after school to help out with that. SO CRAZY. So yes, the next chapter shouldn't take as long.**


	9. Shopping and a Dream

My thoughts have been clouded and dark, wondering where James is, if that bastard is enjoying the news story. Of course it was in the news – "Chief abuses daughter, raped by a 'James.' Read more on page nine." Well, whoop-de-do, the reporters get a heyday, and I get hell. Not a fair trade, is it? But I'm living with it. I'm not sure how well, but I'm living with it.

I'm curled up on the couch in the living room, listening to the news rather blankly in the background and reading _Pet Sematary_ still. I glance up slightly as the voice changes to the weather man.

"Snow is likely to fall this Valentine's Day," he says. "Freezing temperatures will freeze that pond in the backyard, making it perfect for ice skating."

Valentine's Day! How could I forget?

"Yay!" Alice squeals from across the room. "That will be amazing!"

"Snow ball fight!" Emmett shouts. Jasper hi-fives him, and Rose and Alice roll their eyes.

"We'll need new outfits," they say. "To the mall!"

I go back to reading as the room fills with random talking. Edward, Esme and Carlisle are all busy doing things. The talking suddenly dies, and I glance up to find them all staring at me.

"What?" I ask.

"You're going shopping with us," Alice says in a voice that clearly says there will be no arguing.

"Crap," I say. I've heard of their shopping trips. And I've seen the sores that develop on the guys' feet.

They drag me back to my room and help me dress in something "fashionable." We're donning coats as Edward walks in from the kitchen.

"Help me," I beg, running up to him.

He glances back at Rose and Alice. "Funny, Bella, but I'm not that into being castrated."

"Damn," I mutter. "But please! I don't want to!"

"Just go," he says, giving me a small push in their direction, where they're waiting, tapping their feet.

"Noooooo," I whine.

"Grow up, Bella," says Rose and takes my hand. They lead me to Rose's BMW, and we get in. I'm not happy, not happy at all.

But we go, and they take me through every store in the mall – including Victoria's Secret. That wasn't fun.

"Bella! What's your size?" Alice asks. She's digging through a pile of bras.

I walk over and see nothing but lace and frilly things. Sexy things, as people would say.

"I don't really like those," I say quietly.

"Then what do you like?" she asks.

I hold up the cotton one in my hand. It's polka dot. She shakes her head, sighs and goes over to Rose. We finish out the store with ten bags each (against my will), and walk around further.

"My feet hurt," I say, sitting down finally at noon. I slip off the vans I'm wearing and rub my left foot. "Ow."

"Oh, come on," says Rose.

"That's only the first floor," adds Alice.

"Dammit," I mutter, slipping the shoe back on and running a hand down my face. "My feet hurt too much."

"Get over it, Bella," sighs Rose.

"You try being pregnant and tell me that," I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

We're silent for the rest of our lunch. We hit the second floor after that, and they take me to the baby store above where Victoria's Secret is.

"It's bad luck to buy baby things before the baby's here," I complain.

"Really?" they ask, giving me incredulous looks.

"So they say," I explain.

"Fine," they say, and we leave.

Secretly, I just don't like being reminded of it. I have nothing against the child, and I refuse to kill it, but I hate the way the baby came about. I wrapped my arms around my stomach defensively as we walk out of the mall and back to the car.

Somehow, they manage to fit everything in the trunk and next to me in the back seat. They jabber on endlessly on the drive home, and I watch the trees go by, the purplish look of twilight setting in. I'm exhausted, starving and just wanting to paint. I really want to paint.

When we got home, Rose and Alice made Emmett, Jasper and Edward carry all our bags to our room. Edward and I walk up to my room, him laden with bags.

"Sorry," I say as he drops everything as soon as he walks in the door. I bend down and try to shove one of the bras back into the bag. I gather some and take them to my closet, Edward following.

"So, was it hell?" he asks.

I shrug, putting the bags on the floor. I can grab some more later. "My feet are killing me, they took me literally everywhere in the mall. Pretty much, yeah."

"I'll rub your feet if you want," he says.

"Sure," I say with a smile. "My feet need it."

We go back to my bed and I sit down on it, stretching my legs out. He sits at the foot and pulls off the first shoe and sock. He applies the pressure to the ball of foot, and I let out a moan. It feels so good.

He chuckles and keeps massaging the foot.

"Shut up," I say lightly.

We begin talking, and sitting there, laughing and smiling, I realize just how much this small bubble of friendly affection for Edward has grown and changed. It's not just friendly anymore, closer to really liking him.

He changes to the other foot, and finishes during the conversation. We keep talking, and then he suddenly looks at me with a softer look than earlier.

"I really like you, Bella," he says.

I blink in surprise, my jaw dropping a little. "I-I-I," I stutter. "I . . . do too, I think. I haven't really been thinking that much. You know, 'cause of stuff. But," I reach out and put a hand on his as his face drops, "I'm pretty sure I do."

He looks hopeful, his eyes growing slightly and eyebrows raising and knitting together.

"Then be mine for Valentine's Day?" he asks, a tiny smile on his face.

I nod, not knowing if saying something will come out right. He grins and pulls me into a gentle hug.

"Get some sleep," he says, pushing me back to arm-length. "It's late."

He gets up and leaves, shutting my door behind himself. I push myself out of bed, and change into a pair of shorts and t-shirt. I won't be sleeping though. I drag a stool up to the easel and stare at the blank canvas. Oh, what to paint?

I let my hand and mind take over, and simply watch as the scene creates itself. I paint well into he night, and only stop when my eyelids become too heavy to keep open. I place the paintbrush down and crawl under the covers. I'm out before my head hits the pillow.

"_Bella, Bella, Isabella," I hear someone say in a singsong voice. "Waking slowly, never fully."_

_I try to get up, try to open my eyes. The voice is drifting away, and it sounds so familiar. I finally pull my eyes open and find myself on the cliff out in La Push I tried to kill myself by jumping off of. I look around and can't seem to find the voice._

"_Bella, Bella, Isabella," it's saying. No, she's saying. It's female. "Standing now, waiting for it."_

"_What's it?" I call. My voice echoes all around me. I clap my hands over my ears – the sound is so loud. _

"_Waiting for it," the voice repeats._

_It sounds like it's coming from behind me, and I spin around, to see a floating figure by the edge of the cliff. A woman with my brown hair, my pale skin and blue eyes._

"_Mom," I say, grinning. I start running. "MOM!"_

_She holds her arms open, and I run into them. But then nothing's there, and I'm falling, falling down the side of the cliff again._

"_No!" I scream._

_I look to my right, then left and see Mom. Her skin looks burnt, her neck bleeding, all the bruises and scars on her skin._

"_I told you to join me," she hisses. "Join me in Hell, Isabella. But you didn't listen. Then you got knocked up. Bitch."_

_He cackles, and I feel that knife Charlie's friend first carved me with. I look at my left wrist and see the letters appearing, the blood dripping._

_I smack the water, still screaming._

"_Bella, Bella, Isabella," she says for the last time._

I feel someone shaking me, and I jerk up, breathing hard and realizing my hands are clenching the sheets. Carlisle's standing next to me.

"Mom," I whisper, before breaking down.

Carlisle wraps his arms around me, letting me cry into his shoulder. He doesn't ask questions, just lets me cry. He doesn't try to comfort me, seeing there's probably nothing to fix me up right now.

When I've finally cried myself out, he still stands there, holding me. Why couldn't he have been my father from the start? Then none of this shit would have happened. I turn my left arm slightly and see the scar looks red and irritated. I reach over and trace it lightly with a fingernail, and the old wound opens and starts bleeding.

"Crap," I say quietly.

Carlisle looks down and sees the bleeding cut.

"Let's fix that," he says.

* * *

**A/N: I am so sorry this took me forever to get out! I just had such a hard time writing this! I tried really hard, but this was all I could get out. Yes, this took me two weeks. I'm sorry! Now, review, yes? Oh, and there's a poll on my profile. VOTE ON IT. It's important. It's for the name of Bella's child. I narrowed it down, but I couldn't choose out of those. Go vote, and again, I apologize for how long it took!**

**And I might see if I can make a poem to go with that whole "Bella, Bella, Isabella" thing I was writing in the dream. I dunno. We shall see. **

**-xXRayneXx**


	10. Chapter 10

No one asks about the new wrap on my wrist. They don't ask about the screaming from last night. I think they all know I do not want to talk about it. But I'm the one to break the silence at breakfast.

"So, what are we doing for Valentine's?" I ask, taking a bite of the blueberry waffles.

"Well," says Emmett, glancing out the window, "that's tomorrow, right?"

"Yes!" squeals Alice.

"Right. So, today," he pauses dramatically, as if we're really wondering what he's going to say. "We have a snowball fight!"

"Hell yeah!" Jasper shouts, punching the air with his fist.

"Jasper," Esme warns.

"Sorry, Esme," he apologizes, lowering his fist slowly.

"Let's go get dressed," says Edward.

We drop everything we're eating and go up to our rooms, Emmett and Jasper running as fast as they can. Edward jogs after them, shaking his head. Alice and Rose are talking about how their hair will be messed up. I don't care. I think it sounds fun.

I go to my room and pull on a pair of jeans. I find a loose blue sweater and then a beanie over my head. It is freezing out there. I'm lacing up my boots as there's a knock at my door.

"Yeah?" I call, tugging on the strings.

"What are you wearing?" I heard two female voices ask.

"Dammit," I mutter, looking over my shoulder. Alice and Rose are standing there, each in designer jeans, those stupid Ugg boots and scarves that match the print on their scoop neck shirts. "Aw, come on. We're just having a day in the snow. I look fine."

"Bella, please," Alice says. She shakes her head, placing a hand on her hip.

"I am not changing," I say in a tone that finalizes it.

Apparently, the pregnancy hormones are kicking in, and they back off. The disappear as I pull on a gray trench coat. I shrug and go downstairs. They're all waiting.

"What took so long?" Emmett whines like a little kid.

I shake my head.

We go outside, and Emmett and Alice are deemed team captains.

"Jasper!" Alice says quickly. Jasper walks over and she hugs him tightly.

"Edward, get over here," says Emmett.

Edward walks over, and Alice picks Rose. I walk over to Emmett by default. Feels like fifth grade when we choose teams for kickball or dodge ball. Even the nerdy kid was picked before me. I shrug it off like always. They just don't know how well I can perform. Even I don't know.

"We get ten minutes to build some kind of fort," says Emmett. "Now, the rules. There will be no aiming at the face, and we can't hit Bella in the stomach." I feel a surge of gratefulness towards Emmett. "Snowballs only, no ice balls. Those hurt. Um, no bodily contact. And let's try not climb trees, _Edward_. Oh, and don't make snowballs until time's up on the fort building."

Edward laughs sheepishly, and I wonder what happened last time they had this fight. We separate in the backyard, and Edward and Emmett discuss what type of fort to build.

"We should have a high, curved wall," says Edward.

"No, a short and thick," says Emmett.

I shrug and start gathering the deep snow. I push it together, listening to them argue. I've got a portion of the front wall up when I hear the snow crackle next to me. I glance over and see Edward and Emmett on their knees, working on it.

"Bella, make some snowballs," Emmett whispers, looking over at the other team working on their fort.

"That's against your own rules, Em," I say.

The wall's high enough now that they can't see what I would be doing.

"So? Make them," he says. "I want to win this time."

Edward chuckles, and I start packing snow together. I make a neat stack of the one's we've made as they make the fort into a neat circle with enough space for me to stretch out and for them to still walk around. I stand up and look over at what Alice's team is doing. They've made a neat square fort.

Emmett stands up next to me.

"Time's up!" he says. I see Edward pull out his phone. Time's more than up. "You may now start making snowballs and throwing. Do what you want now. Just remember the rules."

We take five seconds before the three of us start throwing snowballs at Alice, Rose and Jasper. One hits Jasper right in the chest and two smash against the front of their fort. I stand up and hurl on over the area. This one hits Alice in the arm.

"Bitch!" she shouts. "This is cashmere!"

"So?" I say and throw another one over.

We play until none of us can feel our fingers, toes or noses. It's been a few hours, and Alice's hair isn't sticking out randomly anymore. It's wet, actually. But we didn't hit in the face.

Carlisle has the fire going, and Esme has hot chocolate.

"Thanks," we say, taking the hot chocolate.

Alice and Jasper cuddle up next to each other on the couch. Rose and Emmett on the sofa. I take a seat in front of the fire, sipping the hot chocolate. Edward sits down behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. I lean back against his chest and shut my eyes.

"That was awesome!" says Emmett, killing the mood.

"It was pretty fun," I say. "Let's build some snowmen later."

"And give them ability to shoot each other, so we can have a snowmen army!" shouts Emmett.

"No, just some snowmen," I say.

"Lame, Bells, lame," he says.

I grin and drink more hot chocolate.

We go back out later and start rolling up the snow. We each make two snowmen and throw a few more snowballs apiece.

I slept without dreams that night. When the others went to school the next day, I go through the lessons privately, and then sit in front of the easel all day with music in the background. I have to finish the painting. I am going to give it to Edward for Valentines, since I feel bad about not having anything.

I'm adding some detail when there's a knock at the door. I turn the easel around and hit pause on the song. _Play That Funky Music_ – Wild Cherry.

"Yeah?" I call, and Edward opens the door.

"Ready?" he asks.

"For what?" I say, glancing at the painting. It should be done, it just has to dry.

"We're going out for dinner tonight," he says. "Wear something kinda dressy."

He walks out, and I slip into my closet. I dig through the clothes that threaten to suffocate me. I finally find a dress. I pull off what I'm wearing and pull it over my head. I feels slightly tight around my stomach. I look down and glare. The fabric's pulled taunt. I pull it off and find something else. This one's perfect. It's a black dot, long-sleeved, scoop neck dress that hits my knees. I lace up the boots from yesterday and pull on that gray trench coat.

I walk downstairs and see Edward in slacks, a warm jacket and a small box in his hands.

"You look pretty," he says, a look in his eyes I'm not quite sure of. It's not bad, not at all, I'm just not sure what it is exactly.

"Thanks," I say, blushing.

"Let's go?" he suggests. "Everyone else is."

"S-"

The phone starts ringing.

"I'll grab it," I say. I walk across the room to the phone on the table by the couch and pick it up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Bella, it's Jake," says the person.

"Hey! What's up?" I say. "I haven't heard from you . . . since . . . you last checked on me."

"Yeah," he says. "Um, it's Valentine's Day."

"Yes, it is," I say. "Did you just realize this?"

"No!" he says. I hear the childish Jacob I'd loved for years. He's so much like a brother to me. "I was just wondering if you'd go out to dinner with me."

"Oh, oh, Jake, I'm going with Edward," I say. "I'm sorry, but you're so much like a brother to me that'd it be weird to go with you. I'm sorry."

I hear a click on the other end.

"He hung up," I say to Edward and place it back in its cradle.

"Oh," he says. "Let's go, now."

I nod and follow him to his Volvo. We slide in, and he starts up the car. A song drifts through the radio. A pretty song with wonderful acoustics and a man with a great voice.

"What is this?" I ask, turning up the volume.

"I think it's 'I Will Follow You into the Dark' by Death Cab for Cutie," he says.

We sit in silence as he drives.

"Where are we going exactly?" I ask, turning away from the window as we pass the darkened Hell of my past.

"A restaurant in Port Angeles," he says and shrugs.

"I haven't been to Port Angeles in ages," I say. I laugh slightly and stare out the window.

We talk through the ride, and eventually, he drives in the city. I look around, smiling slightly. Suddenly, my throat goes dry, and my heart stops for a beat. Then it comes back in full force.

"We need to leave," I say, my voice hardly more than a whisper.

"Why?" he asks, slowly down with the traffic.

"James," I say, my voice trembling.

Edward brakes hard, causing cars to screech to a halt and honk.

"What did you say?" he asks, blinking and wetting his lips. He starts up again and pulls into a nearby parking lot.

"James," I say, wiping a few tears away. "Oh my, God, he's _here_. We have to leave. Now!"

"Where's that son of a bitch? I'm gonna kill his sorry ass," says Edward, unbuckling his seat belt.

"No!" I cry, grabbing his hand as he tried to get out. "Please. You won't win. He'll kill you instead. _Please_. I can't live with that."

He sits back down and locks the doors, try to breathe in a steady rhythm.

"Alright, we'll leave," he says, starting the car up again.

He backs out and gets into the stream of traffic. When we're out of town, he stops alongside the road, and gets out. I watch him, still wiping away the tears. I'm so scared, my heart's beating a million miles an hour.

He opens my door and undoes the seat belt. He pulls me gently out of the car and wraps his arms around me.

"He will not hurt you as long as I'm with you," he whispers in my ear.

I breakdown. He rocks me back and forth, holding me tight. The cars go by, and none stop.

"And I'll be with you for as long as you want," he says. He leans down and kisses me gently. Our first real kiss. He's moving fast, but right now, it doesn't bother me.

"Oh, how cute," says a voice from my right.

We break apart, and I scream. Edward pulls me behind himself.

"Get the fuck away now, James," he hisses with venom dripping from his voice.

"Oh, I don't want to," says James.

"Bastard," says Edward evenly. "You're nothing but a low bastard with a stupid and meaningless life."

"Ah, you wanna dance, pretty boy?" says James. He's so clam, so cool. It's driving me insane. My heart's still pounding.

Edward's in front of James instantly, throwing a punch in his face.

"Edward!" I scream. "You can't win!"

He's on the ground in a second with James kneeing him in the back.

"Listen to your girlfriend, pretty boy," he says.

Right there. I snap right at that. Have you ever heard the saying that fear gives you strength? That you can do unbelievable things when you're afraid? Well, that's true.

I have James on the ground, punching him the face until he bleeds.

"Cut yourself, Bella?" he asks through the blood, squirting it in my face. I realize he's seen the wrap on my arm. "That's not a smart thing to do to yourself.

"You fucking asshole!" I screech. "I am fucking sick of you! You can hurt me, but lay a finger of anyone I love, and you will DIE!"

He's out cold in a few moments, and Edward has to pull me off his motionless body.

"He's unconscious, Bella," he says.

"He deserved it!" I say, the tears still falling down my face.

Edward pulls out his phone, and I try to gather myself. He calls the police, and they're there in a few minutes. James is waking up as they take him to the car.

"Karma's a bitch," I say to him as he realizes what's happening.

The police talk to us for a second, and one's going to give us an escort home to make sure nothing else happens. I'm smiling the entire way home.

"You were amazing," Edward says, once we're in the door.

"I was afraid," I tell him. "It was like the story of the woman who lifted a car because she thought her kid was trapped underneath. I was afraid he'd kill you."

"I love you," he says and kisses me gently again.

"I love you, too," I say, but I feel off. Do I really? Is that what I feel? I'll find out, I suppose.

* * *

**A/N: Ah, yes. There's James, done and gone. Hope you enjoyed! And remember! Vote in the poll! I need your opinion on boy names as well! Do tell me. It's **_**important**_**.**

**Also, tomorrow, I am going up to visit family for the holidays. I should be back on the first or second of January, but I am unsure as to when exactly. I will have my laptop but no Internet, so do not expect an update. **

**Happy holidays!**


	11. Skipping

The dreams are horrible. They're full of torture, and they only stop when I'm awake, with my eyes open and in the bright light, preventing my mind from reaching the dark recesses of the filing cabinet in which every bad memory is stored. And this only happens when I'm distracted fully, not glancing at my stomach at all.

I wake up screaming in the night with the only comfort the one who wakes me and holds me. I feel like nothing but a fragile, destroyed shell of what I used to be. And maybe that's all I am.

That _is_ all I am.

Edward is the one who wakes me up one night.

"Bella?" he asks quietly as I clench my hands around the fabric on his shirt.

I can't even cry anymore, I'm too scared. I bury my face in his shoulder.

"Bella?" he says again.

He runs a hand over my hair, trying to smooth down the back.

"It was horrible," I say.

"What?" he asks.

"That dream," I whisper after an eternity.

Thunder cracks, like in the nightmare, and I squeak, burrowing farther into Edward. He holds me, rocks me, but he can't stop the memories. I know he wants, I can see it on his face, but he can't. It's impossible for them to stop. Not so quickly after it all happened.

"Do you wanna talk?" he asks.

"No."

What I want is to go to bed. And maybe not get up in the morning. Or at noon. Or in the afternoon. Or at night. Or maybe simply never get up. Then this would stop.

But no. No, I can't do that. I will not do that. That would mean going against everything I believe in. Life. And that would mean the end of the baby. And it didn't do anything. It's an innocent child that unfortunately has to be born into this.

"Don't leave me," I whisper. "Please, never leave me."

"I won't. I promise. I won't."

He looks at the alarm on my bedside table. The harsh red numbers declare it's 5:17.

"How about we just get up and get ready for the day?"

I nod.

"Get dressed, then," he says, leaning down and kissing my forehead. He pulls me up and leads me to my closet, pushing me inside and shutting the door behind me.

I flip on the light and dig around for some clothes. I pull on jeans and a large band t-shirt for Nirvana. I pull on a pair of Vans and step out to see Edward gone.

"Edward?" I cry, the fear so evident in my voice.

I run from my room, down to his. I knock on the door and he opens it, buttoning up a shirt over his pale chest.

"You left," I say helplessly.

"I just needed to get dressed," he says. "I should have told you. I'm sorry."

"I panicked," I tell him, reaching out for his hand in the darkness.

He smiles softly at me and pulls me into the room, as gently as he can. He sits me on the couch and finishes buttoning his shirt. He sits down next to me.

"You'll be okay," he says. "And today, you and I are skipping school and going to spend the day together. Now, come on. Carlisle's at work, and Esme's still asleep, so we'll have time to get ready."

He got up and offers me his hands. I take them, and he lifts me off the couch. We walk downstairs, and he picks up a cooler from the garage. We pack up a lunch, and I find some eggs to make into an omelet for breakfast. Mm, eggs.

I crave eggs constantly. That's all I want, eggs. That's all I want to eat. Ah, cravings are entertaining.

We eat quickly and then throw the things into Edward's Volvo. We climb in, and he starts the car. He backs out, and I start fiddling with the radio. I pass between country stations and news and talk and comedy and rap and finally settle on a station playing classic rock. A song by The Rolling Stones is playing, and Edward hums along with it.

We don't talk as he drives, but it's not needed. We don't need to. It's comfortable between us without saying a word. He stops along a dirt road and pulls into it. He gets out, and so do I. We pull on our coats, and he grabs the cooler. We walk along, and I find his hand, entwining my fingers with his.

"Edward?" I ask.

"Yeah?" he says.

"Where are we going?"

A smile tugs at his lips. A very large smile that turns into a grin as he look over at me. My grasp on his hand tightens in a way of reflex.

"Sorry," he says. "It's just, it's a cool place. A calm place. It's the perfect place to think. It's where I go to . . ."

"Go to what?" I ask.

"I . . . plan," he says.

"About what?'

"In due time."

"I hate not knowing."

He chuckles and steps off the road, into the woods. He looks back as he feels me stop.

"It's okay. You won't get hurt. I won't let you."

I follow him again, still holding onto his hand. He's a constant in my life, and I love that. I'm still quite unsure of what I feel for him, but he is an amazing guy to be around.

As we walk, he keeps me from stumbling and falling. I trip a few times, but he doesn't let me fall. He keeps one arm around my shoulder, and the other holding onto my hand. He leads me into a clearing, a meadow where the snow is dazzling white and reflecting in the sun, completely untouched and virgin.

We walk out to the middle, and he sits down in the center, the snow coming up to his stomach. I sit down next to him as he's placing the cooler to his right. He puts an arm around my shoulder and holds me close.

We spend the day together, talking randomly and aimlessly. We play int eh snow a bit, and talk.

"What do you want to do after high school?" I ask as he gets up to walk back to the car to get the thick thermal blanket from the car.

Edward stops. He looks down at me and smirks. "I haven't really thought about it. What about you?"

"Probably paint a lot more. Take care of . . . the kid." My hand rests over my stomach.

He offers me his hands, and I take them. We walk back and get the blanket and then to the clearing again. He places the blanket down, and we sit down on it, getting out the food. We eat, and I look out at the woods around us.

"Wait, did you see that?" I ask, moving to my knees.

"See what?" he asks through a bite of his sandwich.

"I thought I saw someone out there," I say.

"It's probably nothing," he says, swallowing.

"Yeah, you're right," I agree. But I still think I saw something.

I take a bite of the sandwich and hear something snap in the woods. This time, Edward's on his feet, walking over.

I scramble to my feet and follow after him. He starts through the woods, and follow as carefully as I can after him.

"Hey!" he calls.

There's more footstep sounds, and then the sound of branches moving. Jake steps out.

"Hey, Bella," he says, ignoring Edward.

"Hi, Jake," I say, moving to Edward's side. He takes my hand.

"What's up?" he asks, his eyes locking on our hands momentarily and then looking back at me.

"Not much," I say. "Shouldn't you be at school?"

He rolls his eyes. "I could say the same for you two. Are you two dating now?"

"Uh, yeah," I say.

A pissed off look crosses his face and then he walks away.

"Jake!" I say, jogging after him. I grab his arm. "Look, I always thought of you as my brother. I told you. I'm sorry."

He sighs and pulls his arm out of my grasp. He walks away through the woods. Edward comes up and takes my hand.

"It's okay," he says as we walk back. "He's just upset and jealous."

I nod, and we sit back on the blanket. We finish eating in silence, and then we hear the sound of running feet.

I cock my head to the side, and Edward stiffens.

A figure appears at the opening to the clearing, and it takes a second, but I connect it with Esme.

"Oh, thank God," she says and runs forward. "We were so worried, so scared. We had no idea where you were, and neither of you would answer your cell phones."

She drops to her knees and hugs both of us.

"Sorry," we say.

"Just, come back to the house, alright?" she says.

We nod and pack up. Edward and I return in the Volvo, and Esme in her car. We return, and Edward and I sit down to play a game on the PS3.

* * *

**This chapter is so shitty, and for this I apologize. I also apologize for the far too long wait. Remember, VOTE IN THE POLL. IT'S MUY IMPORTANTE (or, extremely important). **

**Well, anyway, hopefully the next chapter shouldn't take too long. ut I also question this as next week I have midterms. So, studying and such. but we shall see. **

**-xXRayneXx**


	12. Small Author's Note

**Hey, dudes, just wanted to tell you that I have taken down the chapter from today, because, honestly, that was not the best I could give you. And, also honestly, I forgot something very important. Well, forgot somehow (shit memory, okay?) to have it put into this chapter. I guess I thought I had it in the last chapter. And I would like to thank a reviewer for calling it to my attention, in a way. You know who you are.**

**So, I'm going to edit the chapter and then stick it back up. This will probably take a day or two. Also, uh, the twin thing. I know a lot of you think it's harsh and cruel of me to do so (whether you say so or not) and I don't mean to sound like I'm insecure over my work, but I seriously don't give a fuck about it. Just, watch - er, read - and see. Think about how this story plays out at the END. Not now. Don't speculate too much.**

**xXRayneXx**


	13. Doctors, Drugs, Spring Break

_February 19, 2011*_

Carlisle approaches me the day after that little escapade I had with Edward. I'm sitting on my stool, painting as usual. But it's a harsh painting. With harsh lines and stiff edges and angry colors and angry faces. Such angry faces.

It reminds me of people going to Hell. They're all screaming, enraged that they're going to Hell. There's fire and the Devil, and I don't know what caused me to paint this. But something did.

"Hey, Bella," he says, walking over to me. His tone shifts. "What are you painting?"

"Hell, I guess," I tell him, my throat tightening. "I-I-I dunno why I painted it. I guess it's something that's going on in my mind."

"About your mind," he says, sighing heavily and sitting on my bed.

I drop my head, my grip on the brush tightening. "You think I'm crazy, don't you? You think I need to be locked up?"

"No, no, nothing like that, Bella," he says. "I think you to talk with someone. You're suffering from PTSD. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. You relive what happened to you. Esme and I just don't want you to hurt anymore. But I know it's not that easy. We just want this to be easier. We know it's not easy, what you're doing. I know it's not easy for you to keep the baby, especially how it was conceived."

I'm quiet throughout his little speech. But when he's done, I feel myself shaking. He's hit a nerve, and he knows it, but he's not using it like . . . Charlie ever would. He's not using it as a way to torture me. He really wants to help.

Carlisle pushes himself up and walks over to me. He wraps his arms around me and holds me to his body.

"Why couldn't I have just never been born to him?" I ask, the first traitor tears falling.

"I don't know," he says. "But you never deserved anything he did to you."

The tears fall harder now, and I shut my eyes, not wanting to look at the best father anyone could ask for.

The next day, Carlisle takes me to a doctor at the hospital. He sits with me while we wait. I'm sitting on the crinkly paper they'll put on the beds for patients, and he sits on a chair next to me.

The man that enters is the other doctor from when I tried to kill myself. He's dark with black hair and odd blue eyes that I wouldn't expect on him.

We go through the appointment, and yeah, I've got PTSD. I'm given two different medications that will help with the dreams and flashbacks. I just really hope they work. I really don't want to live in this anymore. I really do not want to deal with it.

It's scary. It's worse than the scariest horror movie you could ever think of. And I continue to do this. I continue to keep the child. I don't know why, I just do. I can't kill the thing inside of me. It develops so quickly, and how could anyone kill it?

Carlisle and Esme also take me to a therapist. It sort of worked. I could talk about the hitting and the insults and the physical stuff, but nothing else. I couldn't say anything beyond that. It hurt too much. I broke down horribly when we first broke that tiny barrier, and I said something about it, but then I retreated at the wrong moment and my brain fried at what happened.

That was about a month ago. It's March 26th now. But on the bright side, the drugs help block the memories. But only block. I know they're there. Fighting against the wall that the drugs have built for me. And when they break past, it'll be like the Berlin Wall coming down. Random, and painful. Those memories will attach with sledgehammers and take my mind out.

I've explained this to the therapist. I think she largely understands what I'm trying to say.

_April 16, 2011_

"Hey, Bells, spring break starts soon," says Edward, opening my door. He stares at me and then laughs. I was jumping on my bed, moving to the song on the radio. It's by Escape The Fate.

I get off the bed and turn down the radio.

"Having fun?" he asks.

"Yep," I ask, one of my best smiles on. I'm four months now, and you can tell. But that's because of the twins. I found out when Carlisle had me in for an ultrasound, saying I was large for roughly two and a half months.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I asked Carlisle, staring between him and the ultrasound. "That can't be right. No."

"No, I'm not kidding, that is right," he told me.

"No, no, no," I said, my lower lip quivering, my mouth open.

He hugged me. "You're having twins."

"Dammit."

But I've sort of come to terms with it. Sort of managed to except that, yeah, this is happening, and as soon as I found out, I thought, "Now I have even more reason not to go through abortion." No one was trying that, no one mentioned, but it's something I had to tell myself.

"So, guess what we're doing for spring break," he says.

"What?" I ask, walking to my closet. He stays in place, and I leave the door open. I trust him.

"We're going to the fair," he says. "And then a few theme parks."

"But, it's April," I say. I pull on a t-shirt with monsters that glows in the dark and a pair of jeans. "And we live Forks. The rainiest place on the continental United States. Why?"

"Not, here, silly," he says as I walk out. He's grinning. "We're going to Universal Studios."

"Awesome!" I cry, hugging him.

"Yeah, get packing, we're leaving in a few hours. Carlisle and Esme just told the rest of us."

He kisses me gently and then turns and leaves. I pull out my suitcase and pack it with all the clothing Rose and Alice have gotten me. I pack other essentials, and then drag the suitcase downstairs. But I stop about halfway down and then run back up to pack a backpack with some drawing stuff and my laptop. I've got three auctions that will end over spring break. I need to monitor them.

Jake still hasn't called, hasn't talked to me. He's still upset about how he and I can never be. I've tried to call him, went to his house a few times, but he won't talk to me. He's started hanging out with new people, and I'm not sure what I think of them.

Everyone else is downstairs, their stuff by the door.

"We still have an hour before we need to leave," says Esme.

"Black Ops!" shouts Emmett, running to the game station. He grabs the remote, flipping on the TV and remote controller simultaneously.

I chuckle and pick up another controller as Jasper and Edward take the other two. The three boys stare at me.

"Can you even play?" they ask in shock.

"Level 50," I tell them, smirking.

Their mouths drop open.

"I made my own account and play while you guys are at school," I say, laughing openly.

"She gets into it," says Esme. "Often, when I'm fulfilling her cravings, I hear 'No! Die! Ha, bastard, suck on that!' You're entertaining, Bella."

My cheeks feel like the sun, and everyone's laughing, but Edward kisses my cheek.

"Now, let's play," says Emmett, clearing his throat.

And we play, for an hour.

"Ha!" Jasper declares at the end of the first match. "Highest kills!"

"But Bella had the least deaths, and was one kill behind you," says Rose. "So ha to you."

"Thanks a lot, sis," he mutters, sitting back down.

Carlisle and Esme packed up the cars while we played, and then we loaded ourselves up.

The next day, the first place we went was this fair in this town about an hour out of Orlando. Emmett and Jasper ran off to find food, and Rose and Alice went off to do whatever it is they wanted. Carlisle and Esme went through the little stands set up, and that left Edward and I.

"Where first?" I ask, as he links his fingers with mine.

"Let's play a game," he says.

We walk down the long line of stands and concessions and then stop in front of a dark-throwing game.

"Win your girlfriend a prize?" asks the man at the game. "A dollar to play."

"Sure, I'll try," says Edward, pulling a dollar from his pocket. He hands it to the man, and I start scanning the prizes. I lock my eyes on a white dog with brown spots. I want it.

I hear the first balloon pop and then another. He pops three more and then the man nods.

"Well, sonny, that seemed a bit too easy for ya," he says, scratching his weathered face. "How about you give me another dollar, and I'll give you ten darts instead of five. If you make at least seven of those shots, then you're pretty little girlfriend gets two prizes instead of one."

I see James in his place instead, and my grip of Edward's hand tightens. I back up a step, and Edward shakes his head. I forgot the medicine this morning. That's why this is happening. That has to be why.

"No," he says firmly. He looks at me and I tell him about the dog. "The dog. Now."

"Ah, don't be like that, sonny," he says, getting the dog down. "Sure ya purdy girl don't want anything else?"

"I'm sure," he says, his hand tightening on mine. "We're leaving."

Edward and I walk away, and I fight the urge to make sure James isn't following us. Edward and I sit on a bench two rows away.

"You okay?" he asks, sweeping some of my hair away. I'm clutching the stuffed dog.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I will be."

We stay there for a few minutes, and then I get up. We walk on and go play a few more games. I won once or twice, but Edward won more often than anyone. We put the stuff back in the rented minivan and then went to find something to eat.

Spring break was awesome. Best one I've had in years. We went to the Harry Potter theme park in Universal, and the butter beer was fantastic. We did some shopping while we were there, of course, and saw a movie. Edward and I went out for dinner twice.

My three paintings closed for over $600 each. It's amazing! I can't believe people like my stuff that much. I guess maybe I can use that to go buy some baby stuff. I kind of need to still.

When we returned home, Edward carried my bags up to my room. As he sat my backpack on my bed, his cell phone started ringing.

He answered it, and I rolled my suitcase into my closet. I'd unpack later. I plugged in my laptop as Edward hung up.

He ran to me and spun me around, kissing me and hugging me.

"You're dating a professional author!" he says, laughing, kissing me.

"What? I didn't even know you wrote anything," I tell him.

"Oh, yeah, I never told you. Sorry, babe," he says, chuckling. "Here, come with me and you can read it."

We walk to his room, and he takes a thick manuscript out from a box in his closet. He hands it to me.

_Following Bells_, is the title. I flip to the next page. 'Dedicated to my girlfriend, Bella, who's gone through so my much and is still so strong, so beautiful. I love you, babe.'

"Edward," I say, tears brimming on my eyes.

"I love you," he says, bending down and pressing his lips to mine.

"I love you, too," I tell him, kissing back and wrapping my arms around his neck. The manuscript falls from my hand as the pregnancy hormones take over.

Somehow, we end up back on his couch, and his hand is stroking my stomach. Then, I don't see Edward.

"Oh my, God, you're so beautiful," he says. But I hear James's voice. I scream and shove him off me, running from the room.

"Wait, Bella!" he shouts, and I hear him run after me.

I make it to my room, shut the door and lock it. I dash into my closet, my heart pounding. I can't even kiss my boyfriend without this happening. It's not fair! I slide down the back of my shut door, pulling my knees to my chest.

"Bella," I hear the muffled, pathetic sound of Edward's voice. I feel horrible for this, but I can't face him. Not yet, not right now. I need to calm myself first.

I don't know why the medicine didn't stop that. I think it's just because of the words that triggered. They were so close. So very close.

***Date of occurrence in the story. I don't mean for this to come out as a journal, but I felt it would be better to give you guys a timeline.**

**Yes, I've finished editing in the part I had left out. Whoo! **

**I know you guys are unhappy about the twins, but I just…I dunno, it's something I added. I just – don't ask, okay? Don't make me explain. 'Cause I can't. And it's my work. And as I've said before, if you don't like it, don't fucking read it.**

**Same as last time about this being a filler kind of chapter.**

**Also, review, please, and don't forget the poll! Even if you've already voted, you can leave a few extra names I could consider. The names that I'm likely to pick are – ha, no. I'm not telling. You have to keep guessing. Teehee.**

**Love you!**

**xXRayneXx**


	14. OW

_April 18, 2011_

I knock on Edward's door, my hands in my jacket pocket. I haven't talked to him since that incident. But I will now. I hear the music stop from incised, and his footsteps reverberate inside the room. He pulls the door open a second later.

"Hey," he says, his crooked smile growing.

"Hey," I say, stepping in as he moves aside. He shuts the door. "I'm really sorry about what happened."

"It's not your fault, Bella," he says, shaking his head, the smile dropping. "It was just something I said, that quite obviously triggered something that was sensitive to you."

"But-"

"No, no 'buts,'" he says. "Don't worry about it. It's okay with me. But are you okay?"

I nod, pressing my lips into a thin line. His face is sympathetic. He wraps his arms around me, and I smile softly, bringing my arms back around him. He kisses my forehead.

"You never read the book," he says. But when he goes to get it, he pauses, looking back at me. "But, it might not be best to read it right now."

"Why?" I ask.

"I started it before I found out about what happened, before I even met you, okay? I had finished reading about that girl they found in the gutter, who had been abused before she died, and I had thought, 'Hey, I could make a book out of that.' So I did. And then I met you, and I started seeing the bruises, and I found out what he did, and it fueled the book," he explains. "But it's not about you. It's about a teenage boy, instead. There's no rape, I promise. Just a lot of physical abuse. Do you want to read it still?"

I don't answer right away. "I'm not sure."

He nods. "It's cool. I understand."

We stand in our separate places for a moment. Then I grin. "Let's paint. With our feet."

He laughs out right, and kisses my cheek after walking over. "Sounds fun."

We walk back to my room, hand-in-hand, and I feel like a weight has been removed from my shoulders. I feel so much better, knowing he's not mad at me. Once in my room, I gather up paints we can use, and Edward grabs one giant canvas to carry.

"Let's go outside," I say, looking out the window. "It's actually pretty today."

"Sure," he says.

We go downstairs, Edward trying to look around the long, rectangular canvas. Alice and Jasper look at us, then each other.

"What the hell?" Emmett asks.

"We're gonna paint with our feet outside," I say simply. "Wanna paint, too?"

"Yes!" Jasper and Emmett shout.

"Does the paint come off easily?" asks Rose.

Emmett rolls his eyes. "Come on, babe, it'll be fun. Family time!"

Esme sticks her head out from the kitchen. "What are you doing?"

I explain it to her, and ask her for some paper plates I can put the paint on. She grabs them.

"How about you wait until Carlisle's home, and we can all paint together?" she suggests.

"Sure," I say.

"So can I put this down?" Edward asks.

We burst out laughing.

When Carlisle got home, we had everything under the canopy out on the deck. The canvas was sitting on a large sheet of plastic, and the paints and paper plates were sitting in front of it.

"The kids have something they want to do," says Esme, kissing his cheek.

"What would that be?" he asks, looking at us from his hug with Esme.

"We're gonna paint," says Alice.

"With our toes!" shouts Emmett, laughing again.

"Interesting," Carlisle says slowly, stretching the syllables. "How about I change first and then we can?"

"Okay," I say.

Once he's back, we go outside, and I squirt the paint onto the plates. We all sit down and pull off our socks and shoes. A stench reaches my nose, along with everyone else's.

"Does anyone have something we can wrap Em's feet in?" Rosalie asks while coughing and holding a hand over her nose.

"Hey, they do not stink that badly," says Emmett. He glares and pouts. "At least I haven't run today. Then my feet would stink."

"Oh, God," she says.

Esme gets up and comes back with air freshener. She sprays the air and then drenches Emmett's feet in it.

"Well then," he says.

"Thanks, Esme," says Alice.

We wash off our feet so as not to get dirt or anything else on the canvas. Then we all begin painting. We dip our toes into the paint and shakily run them over the white canvas, spreading lines of blue, red, purple, green, gold, turquoise and the other paints I poured out.

_August 25, 2011 _

Nothing of interest has really happened these last few months. I finally decided on names for my children, and Edward and I still going steady.

Emmett and I are the only ones home right now, as Edward, Alice, Jasper, and Rose are off shopping again. I know it's for me, but I really don't like it. Esme's out doing grocery shopping, and Carlisle's at work.

I'd been having a backache all day and there was this slight, dull ache somewhere inside my body, but I couldn't really put my finger on what it was. But now, it's slightly worse. Like, a wave is going through my body, heightening and staying like that for a while and then letting loose.

They've been getting worse, and I think it'd be best if I tell Emmett. As I get up from the couch to go hobble to the kitchen to tell him, one a thousand times worse sweeps through my body. I clench at my stomach, and scream, my face screwing up against the pain.

"Shit!" I shout, and Emmett comes charging into the room, holding a spatula with grease and cheese on it from the cheeseburgers he was making. "Shit!"

"What's wrong, Bella, what's going on?" he asks, panicking.

"Ow, fuck," I hiss, trying to breath calmly. The pain subsides a little bit, and I sit back down, breathing deeply through my mouth. Something clicks in my head. "Emmett, don't panic. That's not gonna help."

"What are you talking about?" he asks, swallowing hard and putting the spatula on a clump of tissues.

"I believe – OW! – that I've gone into – aw, BASTARD! – labor," I pant as another contraction rips through my abdomen and back.

"Oh my, GOD!" he shouts. "What the hell do I do? What do I do?"

"I told you not to panic," I say through clenched teeth, gripping my stomach. My knuckles are white and my hands claws. The tendons on the back of my hands are sticking out. "Motherfucker. Emmett – hospital – now."

"Good Lord,' he says, and picks me up, moving through the house to get to his jeep.

While he's doing this, my body's morphed into this shell of . . . pain. I can't find the words to describe what's going through me. This is worse than most of the days I had spent with Charlie, even over Christmas break.

"Move faster!" I shout as the contractions break for a minute.

He opens the garage door and places me gently on eh passenger seat. I fumble with the seat belt while biting into my lower lip. I taste something metallic and realize I've punctured my lip with my teeth.

Emmett backs out of the garage and turns around like a professional racecar driver and then floors it to get to the hospital.

Seven and a half hours later, and the labor is finally over. I've got a son and a daughter, and a body pumped with painkillers. Carlisle and Emmett were with me during the whole thing as Esme called the others to get their butts home and wait at the hospital.

Carlisle cut the umbilical cord, and now that they've been cleaned, I'm holding my kids. They had cried like normal children, but they've stopped.

"Ow," I say weakly.

Carlisle chuckles and kissed the top of my head.

"You did good," he says.

The other doctor approaches. "What are you naming them, Miss Swan?" he asks.

"The girl, um, Skye," I say, looking down at her. "With an 'e' at the end, please. And the boy, I want to name him Alex. Yeah."

"Skye's a pretty name," he says, filling in the birth certificates. "What's the name for the father?"

"Uh," I say, looking at Carlisle for help.

"Who's name do you want to put down?" he asks.

"Can I put Edward's?" I ask.

"Go ahead," he says and nods to the doctor. "Edward Cullen."

The doctor nods, and he goes to complete the paperwork. The nurse allows the rest of my family in, and Edward kisses me fully.

"When I heard you were in the hospital, I didn't think it was labor," he says.

"I'm okay," I say. "Sorta. I just really hurt."

He hugs me, and then Alice shoves him away.

"Stop hogging the babies, Edward," she says. "Oh my, God, they're so cute!" She looks at Jasper over her shoulder. "I want children."

"Whoa, not until you can take care of yourselves," says Carlisle.

"Aw," complains Alice.

**Okay, you have to be nice about the contractions. That was one of the hardest things I've ever written. And I researched that for a good two hours. So be nice. Also, yes, Jackson was winning in the poll for boy's names, BUT I liked Alex more. And doesn't Jackson sound a lot like Jasper? Just saying . . .**

**Also, there won't be a description of the children for a little while. Just saying. Um, there's probably only going to be one more chapter, and then a sequel. Whooo! **

**Okay, review, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

**-xXRayneXx**


	15. Home and a Question

The hospital releases me two days later after checking that after I went through so much, that giving birth didn't hurt my body more so, and just to check the twins since they were early. By five days. Carlisle and Esme bring me home, and they keep sharing a look that reads "I-so-cannot-wait-until-she-finds-out-but-I-want-to-tell-her-so-badly-and-I-know-I-can't."

"You know, my vision hasn't been impaired in anyway, and I know that you guys have some secret you're not telling me," I say, looking back and forth at the twins, sitting in their car seats. They're so small, so delicate. It's amazing how these little blobs with wrinkled skin turn into a complicated adult with such amazing inner workings and then little blobs of their own. "And I don't appreciate it. Nor do I appreciate having baby fat. Times two."

"Emmett will help you work it off," says Carlisle, completely ignoring the first half of what I said.

I roll my eyes, and sigh, resting my face in my hands. We reach the house not much long after that. Carlisle and Esme took the twins from their car seats, holding them in their blankets. They led me upstairs, and I notice just how empty the house seems. There's no noise, no people.

They take me to the room where everyone's been working for weeks. I know it's the nursery, and I haven't been allowed to see it until now. They open the door, and everyone's there.

"Welcome home!" they shout, and Alex starts crying. Carlisle comforts him before I can do anything, and Edward comes up and kisses me.

"Get a room," says Emmett.

The walls of the room are a light tan and the floors a dark brown wood. There's two cribs across from each other against the middle of the walls. They're dark brown. Alex's sheets had different shades of blue and brown dots on white. Skye's are dots of different shades of purple and black on white. There's two Papa's-On chairs in the corners made of white wicker, white cushions with rainbow dots.

A large, square rug sits in the middle of the room. It's navy blue with green, light blue and red squares along with three giraffes. A changing table is across from the door. It's a slightly darker tan than the walls with a yellow pad. Two shelves are below it. The first has diapers, cloths, etc. on it. The second has necessary items for baths. There's also two large dressers in the corners, one for Alex and the other for Skye.

"We left the walls blank in case you painted something to put," says Alice. "We thought it'd be better."

"Thank you," I say and hug each in turn. I take my kids from Carlisle and Esme and tuck them into their beds. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," says Rose. "This was fun to do. And we'll do it again if you have more kids."

"Uh, no," I say immediately. "Hello? That fucking hurt! You try it – and lose that pretty figure – and tell me you want more kids."

"This body's not going anywhere," says Rose.

"But I'd still love you if you were a giant blob with no real form and wide with no definition to your waist and your feet are swollen," says Emmett. "I mean, Bella looked like a blimp, and Edward still loved her."

"Good God, shut up," she says as I slap him. "That's not happening."

"Actually, Rose," I say. "It's really nice to have them. "Even with what they remind me of."

"Any idea who their father really is?" asks Jasper softly.

"No, not yet," I say. "They've got blue eyes, so those could be my mom's, and brown hair, I think, so that's probably mine or Charlie's through inheritance, so I have no idea. They need to grow up a little more before I'll be sure."

"We could do a D.N.A. test," says Carlisle.

"We could," I say. "But I dunno. I don't know how badly I even want to know."

"I understand," says Esme. She places a hand on my shoulder and smiles. "Time will tell."

I nod.

Later that day, I'm sitting in the twins' room with my easel, paints, brushes, a canvas and my stool, painting the twins in turn. Edward's sitting in the Papa's-On chair near Alex as I paint Skye, typing away with his second book. His first one sold quiet well, I finally worked up the courage to read it in the weeks before my labor. It was accurate, what people like me went through. But it did make me put the book down a few times as old memories came to my head.

"Have you thought about college, yet?" he asks.

"You mean, will I go to UW with you guys?" I ask in return. "I'm still not sure. I mean, I can't leave the twins, and I'm not sure if you'll have room for them in your house, so I'm still not sure. Maybe I'll join you after the first semester. I don't know."

"It's okay," he says. He sighs and puts the laptop down next to him. He gets up and walks over to me. He smiles at the painting of Skye. "She's beautiful."

"Yeah," I say. "A pure innocence. I'm never letting what happened to me happen to them."

Edwards nods, and turns me on the stool. He drops to one knee and pulls a velvet box from his pocket.

"Isabella Swan," he says. "I want to help you with the twins and never leave them or you. I want to be there for the thirteenth birthday, and I want to be with you every night. I want to be there to help you get the twin that's crying in the middle of the night because they wet their diaper. Bella, will you marry me?"

"Oh my, God," I whisper. "Oh my, God. Yes!"

I jump into his arms as he stands up. He stumbles back as he grabs me, kisses me.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you, too," I tell him. "And I'll join you at the University of Washington after Christmas break."

* * *

**Okay, that's the last chapter! The sequel should be up sometime this weekend. I would love your input on what you thought, blah blah blah. You know, same old, same old. **

**So anyway – I had a snow day today! In southern Texas! YAY! Well, all the snow's gone. But still. I haven't seen snow in four years. It was spectacular.**

**Love you!**

**xXRayneXx**


End file.
